Ailing

Our oldest daughter was recently married. She had always wanted the reception to be in our garden. Our yard is not exceptionally large, but it is a fully landscaped perennial garden with multiple flower beds including ones in the front and on the sides of the house. It is a lot of work to keep it watered,  weeded, green and bug free. We also have a large patio area where we have about 21 pots we plant every year with annuals. He loves to work in the garden, but it can be overwhelming. It can be maintained by weekly gardening, but it requires a lot more attention to get ready for a wedding. During this same time our family was dealing with multiple time consuming issues and financial strains. We knew that we could not hire any help to get our yard ready for the wedding, so we plugged along preparing for a late spring reception.

Months ( I mean months), earlier He had started battling what He believed to be unavoidable exhaustion from all His responsibilities. I convinced Him to finally go to the doctor who ran every test he could think of, and concurred His suspicion that He was indeed overwhelmingly exhausted. The doctor ordered Him to take time off from work and find some time to rest. The idiom "no rest for the weary" seemed so very applicable. He knew that under the circumstances that He could not "rest", so He carried on. He really did't even slow down. I watched helplessly as the stress started to make His face look haggard. He suffered from a chronic high temperature hovering around 102. He started to walk slower, and even hunch a little. People would tell Him He didn't look well. The wedding came and went, and He was pleased that it lived up to what His daughter (and I), had dreamed of. After the wedding some of His other stressors also resolved themselves (although they also created new ones).

A few months after the wedding He decided that He better go back to the doctor. That in itself meant something was serious. Finally, and oddly, a diagnosis was found. He had been under the influence of mononucleosis (for over 6 months by now, complicated by bacterial infections). I look back at the wedding pictures and I can see how sick He was. He smiles in all the pictures, but you can see that He was not well. When I think of Him out in the garden for weeks, kneeling and sweating, trying to get the yard pristine for our daughter it makes me want to cry. He worked tirelessly, gave everything He had, and wasn't about to let anyone down.

He persevered...

...one more reason I love Him.

Welcoming

He told me to make room. His sister had battled breast cancer for a year. At her year mark she was deemed free and clear of the disease. A few months after her good news her husband died suddenly. Within a year she had dealt with multiple personal trials and moved from her home into an apartment. After a particularly trying time she called Him for support and advice. We went to her home together and after talking to her for a time noticed that she didn't look healthy. She probably had not been looking after herself and was tired. He encouraged her to see the doctor. Finally, after multiple promptings she relented. When He checked back to see what the doctor had to say she told Him her cancer had returned.

As soon as He hung up the phone He called to tell me (ask, tell, it really doesn't matter), that I needed to go get her and bring her and her teenage daughter home with us. Although I understood his alarmist reaction I told Him we needed to ask her if she wanted to come, and then make arrangements for her to move. Within a week she was settled in our home. It was a stretch for our large family to add more, but no one complained. I also assume it was hard on her and her daughter. Our families did not share the same household priorities, but He tried to maintain a consistent set of rules for our home, regardless of differing points of view. This was probably more difficult for her and even more so for her daughter. With the HIPPA laws, caring for His sister was a trial. She did not want anyone to know the seriousness of her condition and it caused real frustration for those trying to care for her.

Regardless of HIPPA (don't get me started, I understand the need for personal privacy, but there are instances like this when it may cause more harm to the patient to lack information that could help the caretaker take better care of them), the oncologist told Him the cancer was advanced, but that she would hopefully make it a few more months. Defying all odds, and I think through sheer will power on her part, she lived for three years beyond her prognosis (just to see her daughter graduate high school). It was difficult for Him to watch His sister suffer, and to try and make her comfortable. However, His biggest challenge was to run interception for her, trying to keep her safe, healthy, happy, and trouble free. Beyond the added physical strain and the financial burden placed on Him, He bore an enormous mental burden. This probably took the greatest toll on Him. But it was His immediate reaction to her returned illness that speaks to who He is. He did not hesitate to step up when she needed someone. He did not weigh the pro's and cons of bringing her home. And He never wavered in His decision once He had made it. He never regretted bringing her into our home either. I know she felt safe, cared for, and loved, because she told me so. The most telling mark of His character however, is that the decision to bring her into our home and care for her was an automatic gut reaction.

He made room...

...one more reason I love Him.

Worshiping

I previously noted He seeks to be a spiritual man. Some like to argue that spiritual and religious are separate and distinct ideologies. However, He cannot understand how either one can be divorced from the other. He believes that the purpose of organized religion facilitates the growth of our spiritual understanding, and the quest for a spiritual life will lead one to organized religion. If we search for God in our lives, and we try to become closer to Him, it is religion that offers a communal organization that helps us understand who we are and why we are here. In other words, a fundamental belief in God recognizes that we are not alone, we cannot progress alone, and we are foundationally organized with others. This then acknowledges that we can neither find greater spiritual understanding without working with and serving others, nor can we progress without having them serve us. In essence, organized religion creates a community of similarly minded believers who work together for enlightenment, and greater faith. It is through interaction with others that situations present themselves in which we find the greatest opportunities for spiritual growth. For these reasons He embraces His church membership as essential to His spiritual development.

He is not a Sunday only member either. He strives to daily live the tenants of His faith.  However, He believes Sunday worship is an outward acknowledgement of an inward commitment, and therefore embraces the Sabbath and sets it apart from other days. His week is full. He rises early every morning, and Sunday is no different. In our faith we do not have paid clergy, therefore we rely on each other for all aspects of our religious organization. He, like most faithful members spend many volunteer hours on the Sabbath serving others. After a long week, and a busy weekend He rises at 6:00 am in order to begin His Sunday service. Although He often complains about needing a break from work, He never complains about His religious obligation.  He loves God enough that He willingly and selflessly follows the letter of the commandment to serve others. But it is how He embraces the spirit of the law, manifested through His inner commitment on the Sabbath, that is the true mark of His faith.

He believes...

...one more reason I love Him.

Mucking

When He was a a young boy, and as a teenager, His father used to take Him along on community service projects. One He remembers with both fondness and loathing was helping out at the community pig farm that serviced under privileged families. Their service consisted of mucking out the styes. He still remembers the stench that could not be washed off His skin. He hated it. And yet, He loved it because He was with His dad. At the time He dreaded His father volunteering His services at the pig farm. There was nothing fun about it. It was difficult, dirty, and thankless work. However, in retrospect the memories of working alongside His father are priceless. He now understands that His father was teaching Him how to work and to serve others.

One of the joys of parenthood is that we get to inflict the same "cruel" activities on our children as our parents inflicted on us. It is however in wisdom that we understand the work was never intended as either cruel or meaningless. Rather, they often were trying to teach us valuable attributes that would help us grow into useful, empathetic, and conscientious members of society. This is how He sees the imposed service now. He has in fact taken our boys to help at the same pig farm, and they HATED it. They complained, they moaned, they pretended illness and injury, and used every excuse they could think of. Like His father, He teaches His sons the meaning of work, the importance of community service, and the forms of compensation that comes from both. He teaches them that community service has innumerable rewards that usually are not publicly recognized, but are richly rewarded internally. He teaches them that an honest days work is compensated by a paycheck, and that the size of the paycheck does not denote the work's worthiness. He believes all honest work contributes to a heathy and functioning society.

I realized how much His example impacted our son's lives a few years ago when my eldest son was living a  few states away from us. I received a letter in the mail from a woman who said she had met my son. She asked my son for my address so she could write to me. In the letter she explained how she came to meet my son. He was walking along the street one day when he saw two middle aged women moving into a home. They were unloading a moving van all by themselves. My son and his friend stopped and asked if they could help them. The writer expressed what a blessing my son was to them. They not only spent the whole day unloading the van, they returned early the next morning to finish helping the women move in. She told me how impressed she was with my son. She said that it was unusual that a young 20 year old man would stop what he was doing to help a perfect stranger. She thanked me for raising such a thoughtful, helpful, and courteous young man. She was especially impressed by what a hard worker he was. Although the letter and its contents were addressed to me, He is the one who set the example of hard work.

He serves alongside...

...one more reason I love Him.

Father's Day

He has always wanted to be a father. I guess I should clarify that. Ever since we got married He has been very vocal about wanting to become a father and build a family. It is difficult to place ourselves in the mind of the other gender. From birth we grow from a combination of biologically gendered traits, social suggestions, and cultural conditioning. It is trite to say I have always wanted to be a mother. I believe I have gendered characteristics which have driven me to procreate, but also to nurture and love a child. I also believe that my culture has endorsed these gender driven roles as being desirable. So when I say He has always wanted to be a father, I wonder what kind of pull He has felt beyond the physical.  I don't think He deconstructs His feelings and urges in the same way that I do. I really don't think He cares why He wanted to become a father and have a family, a wife, a job, a mortgage. But I know that it is deeper than cultural conditioning.

His generation was the first in modern history who left their families, wives, children, and responsibilities at a greater rate than stayed with them. And whatever excuse is given, (some admittedly legitimate), the overwhelming reason is selfishness. Children mean sacrifice. It is impossible to bear, raise, nurture, teach, and support a family without sacrifice. It necessitates putting someone else's needs before your own. It often means going without things that society identifies as admirable. Did He think this through when He declared His desire for children? (I know I didn't). But it doesn't really matter if He thought it through, it matters that He sticks it out. It also matters that He wanted it in the first place.

I don't believe He was just supporting my desire for a family. He talked about having kids before we were engaged. He was the one who wanted a second one, (we'll just leave the third and fourth one out of it for this conversation). It is easy to want a baby, they are cute, and sweet and they don't talk back. They also don't damage your computer or wreck your car. However, they interrupt your sleep, deprive you of lazy Saturday mornings, derail romantic evenings, and generally drain your rainy day funds dry. So to choose a second one after you have experienced the reality of the first one means that you are serious about building a family. Even then you can find that things have snowballed and you suddenly find yourself wanting a break from it all. Whatever He has felt, He has never even hinted that He has wanted a break from His children, maybe a break from what they do, but never them. He misses them when He is away, and can't wait to see them. They make Him happy. They know He loves them and they feel wanted.

He embraces fatherhood...

...one more reason I love Him  

Eating

Food is a big part of our family's rituals. Not just special occasions like holidays and birthdays, but also  ordinary days. A lot of effort goes into planning and preparing meals. I have always felt time spent has been justified by the time that we sit at the table and talk. We talk while cooking, we talk while eating, then we talk some more after we have finished our meal, and then the talk continues while doing the dishes. The conversation has evolved over the years. It has usually been dictated by the stages our children were in. When they were babies, we talked about them. When they were toddlers we were often amused by their chatter during our meals. When they were in grade school we discussed what was happening in school. When they were in high school the talk usually was an information panel on who was doing what and when. As our children are slowly moving on and out, talk now consists of keeping informed of their lives. However, as they have matured, mealtime topics have also become a place to discuss social issues, politics, religion, and usually everything besides what is deemed polite conversation.

These rituals have followed the pattern that I was raised in. His family was never as vocal at meal time, or sat around the table as long as mine did. When we were first married He was a little scared of my family dinner time rituals, as they often became a cacophony of various voices that all had strong opinions, and wanted to be heard. We talked over, around, and through each other, but everyone felt heard. Even though there are theoretically opposing arguments, no one's opinion is ever discounted. He has come to love this style of family mealtime, and the rituals revolving around it. We have assimilated this style of mealtime in our own home.

With so many diverse schedules of an older family, mealtimes that include everyone become further and further apart. Early Saturday morning is usually the only time when most of us are home at the same time. I need a break from my weekly grind sometimes, and Saturday is my day off from cooking. When the kids were little this often meant cereal, (which they thought was a treat). But as they have grown older Saturday breakfast has become His way of keeping our family mealtime ritual going. He gets up Saturday mornings and makes a full breakfast. This often has meant waking up some not so happy participants. However, they do it for Him. He will try to schedule breakfast time according to the first one who has to leave for the day, (this means some return to bed after they eat). I don't think it's the food he craves so much, as it is the company and conversation of His family that He seeks.

He nurtures the conversation...

...one more reason I love Him.

Pleasing

We had a spring storm. The winds blew for two days and made a filthy mess with scattered tree leaves and blossoms. The storm subsided by early Saturday evening. We spend most Sunday afternoons on our patio just relaxing. When I looked out the patio doors I knew that unless it was cleaned up there would be no relaxing for me. As we had been gone all day I felt an extra weariness wash over me anticipating that one extra thing to do before I went to bed.

I like things tidied up before I go to bed. His attitude is that it can wait until morning. My theory about why we approach the now or later debate from opposite sides is because in the morning He is gone to work, and whatever chore was left from the night before rests solely on my shoulders. So in actuality, He doesn't have to do it the next day, while I do. So for me it is really a question of do I want to wake up to a waiting chore, or do I want to start the day with a clean slate? I prefer a clean slate. In this particular instance there was the added dilemma of the next morning being the Sabbath. This is not a day we do chores at our house. Therefore, If we wanted to spend the day outside, it would have to be amid the mess caused by the aftermath of the storm. I am sure it seems petty to some people, but I can not relax in this atmosphere. I know it seemed petty to Him, because we had this very conversation staring out the patio doors. I told Him that it bothered me enough that I would take care of it, and I meant it. We both had a few things we needed to do that evening so we went about our respective tasks.

A little while later as I was in the house finishing my chores I heard the leaf blower outside. I looked outside and there He was blowing the debris off the patio. After He bagged the leaves, He swept up what was left over and rearranged the patio furniture. As I recount this I know it doesn't sound like very much, but knowing how tired we both were that evening, and how much we were anticipating getting in bed after a long day, I felt it was a very grand gesture disguised as a simple token. I was anticipating finishing the last task of cleaning up the patio, but He took that chore upon Himself and relieved me of it. He did something very simple - not because it was necessary - Rather, He did it just to please me.

He did it for me...

...one more reason I love Him.