“In Sickness…” and Honoring my husband David

 We stood at the altar over 25 years ago and said that line to each other – “In sickness and in health, till death do us part.”  We had an idea what we were talking about, both barely 30.  But now!  We get it.

I started getting him ready for the sickness stuff on our honeymoon.  I cried and had a panic attack at the Maui Airport. (He still can't figure out how his world traveling wife hit that wall.)  Not the first crying fit.  

Losing our first baby was hard.  The ambulance, ER, hospital.  I hit very early menopause with kids at ages 2, 4, and 6 and needed to call a friend one midday: I’m coming over now.  I don’t care if your kids are vomiting, napping, anything.  I’m about to either bite my kids' heads off  or scream at them.  And they are precious and loved, and I don’t want to be a monster mommy.  I need to be accountable - right now!  Dave worked with me through it all.  Loving me.  Thank God that didn’t last long.

The first cancer when our kids were 12, 14, 16.  And Dave and I began learning what that “sickness” vow was truly about.  How often he held me as I moaned in pain.  He washed me, fed me, sang to me.  He carted me unwillingly to the ER.  I was always so stubborn about hospitals.  Mostly the ER.  You get stuck there.  And cry a lot.  The hospital was different, when I was strong, walking the halls, I’d read everything and learned about patient rights.  Ha, ha.  Then I became “that patient.”  (Overplayed the cards sometimes.)

Cancer number two, the next year.  Stage 4, 3 ½ years later.  Dave hung in there through all those chemo treatments.  I wanted to quit all treatments.  He urged me on.  He prayed over me.  He saved me.  (Jesus too, of course.)  Now… shall we talk about all that he does to care for me, say, below my waist?  No.  I stand in awe of such a servant. 

He’s a self-employed man who does not have the luxury of taking family leave for 3 months to take me through this.  He gives until he’s worn out.  Last night at ten he laid down only to hear me say, “Uh, Dave, one more thing…” another half hour of his precious sleep time.  Frequent occurrence – usually much later.  And he helps with the shopping, laundry, cooking, cleaning. (and thanks to many who are pitching in with my care and the rest of “my” duties.)

Who could ever criticize this man?  Uh, me.  I’m sure you’ve heard me over the years.  We wives do that.  Partly to remind people, “No, we are not a perfect couple.  And secondly, that this marriage is forged in blood, sweat, tears, and poop.  Many marriages are forged the same.” 

Another example of missing the forest for the trees - I’m the budget gal, our family generally had no budget for fun drinks when we’re out… except for Dave… took me years to let him have that freedom.  (Nancy, Kelly, my mom, others, continue to free me up by example.  We’ve  all since been known to get something besides water!)   My gripes have gone much deeper.  What a waste - all that criticism.  How could I miss how privileged I am to be married to him?  Ain't none of us perfect.

The things he loves I didn't do often enough, I do now.  I hold his face when he kisses me.  I kiss his cheeks.  He loves that.  Why did I not slow down enough before?

He is talkative, yet he has led our family by example.  He has shown our kids how to love a wife by loving me so well.  Every anniversary, he’s taken me away for a weekend – even if postponed by births.  How I hope that my son has studied him well, and will learn such a servant heart for his future bride.  I hope my daughters will marry a man like him. They will forever be his crowning jewel, as I am Dave's.

If Jesus chooses healing for me on this side, I will return to those stupid struggles.  It’s what we do.  I hope though, I am greatly improved.