The Post In Which I Talk About My Husband

The reason that I am writing this is because I told N that I wasn't sleepy. I said I wanted to blog but I had nothing to blog about. So he casually said, "Blog about me." How in the world am I supposed to resist an invitation such as that! Yeow! 

This leads me to tell you the story of our relationship....

The man with me in the above picture is my husband. When he was my boyfriend. 

We have both changed a lot since then.

1. We have both cut our hair.

2. He doesn't wear a necklace anymore.

3. The hat on his head is now at least 3 times lighter. And 20 times stinkier.

 (I think I have it hidden from him)

4. I am not that tan. 

5. His face isn't that skinny. I will blame my cooking on that one.

Below is where is all began. Camp Lake Stephens. Oxford, MS. 

This was a camp for special needs adults. I was a budding college freshman and he was a bachelor of a sophomore. (When I say bachelor, he was a very fresh bachelor. When I say fresh I mean he was stilltalkingtotheexonthephoneatthiscamp fresh.) Don't judge me for pouncing on a hot Christian guy when I could. Sista should have treated him better. Or not. Because then I wouldn't have him. So thank you Ex. I owe it all to you maybe a teeny weeny fraction of a decimal to you. The rest goes to God's divine plan. 

MSU. My Alumni. 

We dated for 3 1/2 years. Two of those we were at all times at least an hour away from each other. Some of that time we were 2 hours away from each other. That made for a lot of phone time. And tears. And getting to know each other more than we otherwise probably would have. Looking back on it, I wouldn't have had it any other way. We are the couple we are because of that time. During these 3 1/2 years...

HE...

1. Worked as a youth minister intern

2. Took me hunting 1 too many times

3. Surrendered to the ministry

4. Made me pee my pants from laughing so hard at his crazy antics

5. Made me love him more than I knew was possible. 

6. Became a real-life minister

7. Graduated college.

I...

1. Took classed to become a Special Education teacher

2. Worked at the same church he has a year before as a youth intern

3. Prayed that a certain red headed boy would find it in his heart to marry a blond (by the box) headed girl.

4. Entertained the thought of being a girl's youth minister. And just as fast dismissed it. 

5. Moved 3 times. 

6. Loved on this lady.

After a lot of this, and even more face to face begging and pleading and discussing our future...I became the luckiest girl in the world. 

And the madness began. I immediately planned a wedding while he so sweetly nodded his head when appropriate and acted as he is cared when I needed him to. He was such a wonderful fiance. He even took precious pictures with me. See...

Isn't he handsome. I think so. I hope our children look like him. 

 

9 months later, the day that I longed for all my life came true. That boy really married me.

And marriage has been the best thing that I have ever experienced this. 

As I write this in bed, the man of my dreams, the father of our future children, my soul mate and best friend lies next to me. Asleep. Peaceful. 

That is our relationship. Peaceful. Rest. 

There is no way in the world that I could ever describe the love that we share for each other. And some things I don't want to share because they belong to just us. But I will share this...

Love, when ordained and willed by God is perfect and whole. I am so glad I had my heart broken so many times before N. If I hadn't experienced loss and pain, I would have never know what it is like to be this whole. Our journey has been long. It has had so many ups and downs. It is crazy at times. But it is perfect. Absolutely perfect. 

My husband is Wicked!

Tuesday was a bad day at school. I felt like I had lost my touch as a good teacher. My kids were moody and I was cranky. It was no fun. But I clung to the fact that N had asked me the day before if we could go on a date Tuesday night. Ummm, hello....yes we can go on a date.

Before I left for school that day I had a hunkering to do something for N because he is always so good at putting  up with my shenanigans. That led me to purchasing a 5 pack of tickets to see the Memphis Grizzlies play...including the game against the Miami Heat. (Am I a good wife, or am I a good wife!)

I couldn't wait to get home to share with him what I bought. I was so proud of my self. He was stoked when I told him. I was happy to make him happy.

Then he told me that he wanted to downtown to eat. I wasn't in the mood that night to drive all that way and walk to a restaurant. I am a teacher. Come 4 o'clock I am tired of walking. Then he, in all of his wonderful husbandness, pulled out two tickets to the Broadway play, Wicked! Oh. my. Gosh. I flipped. Of course I wanted to go walk downtown and eat with my splendid hubs and then walk to Wicked. Did I say I was tired? Psshh...What do I look like? A sissy? I was ready to run a marathon.

On our way to Downtown. Isn't he precious. 

In 2.5 seconds I mastered the poof and got my teacher clothes off and my night out with the groomie clothes on, and we were off.

We ate at Spaghetti Warehouse and it was wonderful. Then for dessert we had Elphaba, Galenda, and the Oz himself. They were scrumptious. I cannot wait to see it again. Because I will.

Glinda and Elphaba

I love that we have such a fun marriage. We both were thinking of each other and how to do something for the other person that we ourselves don't necessarily enjoy. Because if you know anything about us, my man is not a musical man.

Us at the beautiful Orpheum theatre. 

It was perfect. Just like him. Ahhh. I am so very lucky.

Decide.

You have to decide to love someone. Did you know that? Well you do! Me and N just learned that. I think that we have just exited the stage in which everything was rosey and we were perfectly smitten with each other.

Its over. And while it may return for a short visit every now and again, we better get used to this new stage in our marriage together. In our love together. In our lives together.

The stage titled: Decide.

This past week, well not this one but the last, me and N had the worst fight ever. Now while I am in no way, shape, or form proud to admit that we are not perfect what we seem, I admit it because, well, we aren't what we seem. We have both always prided ourselves in the fact that we get along so easy. We never argue or even tiff. We just jive together. Its so natural.

But not last week. We tiffed, argued,  ok, so we flat out fought. It was not pretty to see. We were both so ugly and we were down right mean to each other. And we did what we were always told not to to-we went to bed mad. Bad mistake. Bad, bad mistake. The next morning we woke up and the tension was rough. It wasn't as sharp as the night before but it had time to stew and simmer and marinate. And it was gross.

All day we ignored each other through text. When I got home we acted like everything was normal, but the tension between us said otherwise. And then the best part of marriage happened...

We went to bed. And while I laid beside the man I fell in love with acting as if everything was OK, he reached over and touched my skin.

I melted. It was as if I was stone turned liquid under his touch. I began to cry and pour my heart and all of my feeling out. I was very vulnerable. As good as it is sometimes to spill all that you feel, it can be embarrassing. And thats when he said it. The thing that I will cling to until death do I part...

Love is a decision. 

I have never thought about that before. I knew up until that week that I was so deep in puppy love that he was everything to me, but I don't think I ever had to decide to love before. But after he said it and I gave it a minutes thought, I knew that he was so right. If we were going to make this marriage work we are going to have to decide to love each other. After the I Do's and butter creme cake, love is different. It is walking hand and hand through the tough. Through the ugly. Through the gross. And through the decisions. The biggest of which being deciding to love each other.

And I would be a fool to have a lesson like this happen in my life and not thank my Sweet Jesus for deciding to love me. He didn't have to cover my sins on that cross, and He doesn't have to bathe me in grace daily. But He does. He chooses to love me. Just like the sweet man does that I married on that cloudy March day.

Milk

This week me and N both got paid so we decided to take ourselves out to eat. We never do anything really special so we went downtown to see if anything hit our fancy.

We were driving into the metropolis and for once in my life I was not applying lip gloss in the visor mirror or changing the station. Nope. My eyes were free to see a man. A homeless man.

Digging. In. A. Garbage. Can.

We happened to be stopped at a red light so I had approximately 2 minutes to jump out of the car and help him. Instead, I just watched. I watched him stick the whole length of his arm into a filthy Memphis garbage can and pull something out. The something was a pint of milk. He looked at it and then he shook it and then he set it down on the rim.

He shuttered before going back in to see what else the garbage can had to offer and then he stopped. He went back to the milk. He grabbed it in his aged, weary hands and proceeded to take the top off.

Next, he smelled the milk.

He made a sour face as would anyone if they smelled milk that had come from a garbage can. I can only image how long it had been there. He capped the milk but he was thirsty. So thirsty that he removed the cap one more time and raised the jug to his lips.

The light turned green and N pulled away. I was on a date with the man who holds my heart but at that moment my heart with on a street corner with a man holding a glass of rotten milk.

I couldn't contain myself and began weeping for the man. Why was he there for me to see? What did God want to teach me from that? What is my duty as a Christian to aid the situation.

After I composed myself and apologized to N 1,000 times for crying over spilt rotten milk, I fell in love with him all over again. He said to me, "Do you want to go find him and invite him to dinner?" The tears returned as I said yes. So the search for the barren man began.

It still haunts to say it, but we did not find him. I kept praying over and over that the Lord would guide my footsteps straight to him. Or him to me. He had my heart and  I wanted it back just wanted to get to know the man who captured it while digging in filthy trash. But no such luck. So me and N continued on with our original plans...to have dinner. With each other. And while it was wonderful to spend time with my own prince charming, I wanted to share the story of a Prince of Peace to another man.

I am not sure why I experienced what we did that evening but I haven't been able to forget about it. I have prayed constantly for the man. I want to know that he didn't drink that milk. I want to know if he has received compassion from another Christian.

If I never understand that particular experience, I do understand the lesson that it taught me.

From today until my very last, I will pounce on every opportunity I am offered to help someone out. No matter what it takes. Especially if it means jumping out of a car door at a red light to offer to replace a jug of spoiled milk with the Gospel of Grace.