some leave, mine is staying put

May 21, 2014

A few weeks ago, one of the moms at gymnastics asked if her grandchild could start attending gym as she would be living with her for the next while. I readily assured her that we would love to have her granddaughter join us for the last few weeks of class.

At some point in the day, I asked her how long they would be living with her, figuring it was a temporary moving/house building/in between jobs situation. She started crying and said, “I don’t know, maybe forever. My daughter’s husband has decided he doesn’t want to take care of a sick wife anymore. He says he didn’t sign up for that and after three years, he is done. So our daughter and her children are coming to live with us and we will take care of her and our grandchildren and try to give all of them the love and security they need while trying to help her get better.”

Oh my.

My heart nearly stopped.

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. I didn’t want to believe it. To face the fact that a so-called Christian man who had made sacred covenants to God and his wife was walking away from those covenants, his wife and their children because her body had stopped working properly was far too painful for me to believe. I burst into tears.

This mama gave me a big hug and said “Your husband is so wonderful, be so grateful for him.”

Oh my.

Yes.

My heart welled up with love and gratitude and fierce devotion to this man I have been blessed with. He has always had a hard road to travel as my husband – I am loud and crazy and spontaneous and emotional and stubborn and opinionated and not very good at wifehood or housekeeping or cooking or matching socks or sticking to a plan or even making a plan. He is calm and stable and methodical and patient and forgiving.

And now my poor body takes so much of our time and money and brain cells. He works two jobs, is gone long, long hours six days a week, comes home and cooks and cleans and plays Monopoly and tries to do a little bit in the yard. He does almost all the grocery shopping. He is ready to come to me when I pass out. He rubs my sore muscles and listens to me complain. He doesn’t balk when I need another new brace or shoes or tape or protein powder or anything. He tells me I am beautiful when I have gained 30 pounds, don’t fit into most of my clothes, and hardly ever do my hair. He sees me as loving and patient and courageous and fun when I see myself as grumpy and weak and pretty miserable to be around. He has yet to be frustrated with me for being so broken.

He is amazing. Absolutely and completely amazing. And I am blessed to have him walk this journey with me.

I wish I could clone him and give him to every suffering woman in the world. I think it would change everything.