Most marriages have a honeymoon phase, which last longer than the honeymoon itself. When Jeff and I married six years ago, tomorrow, we never saw that phase. As many of you know, I got pregnant on our honeymoon, and when Gideon was 5 months old, I got pregnant with Scarlett. When Scarlett was 6 months old, I got pregnant with Lexi. We moved during that time, Jeff got a new job in a new city, and I became a ‘stuck at home’ mom with only one car and Jeff working 6 days a week. I was either pregnant or nursing and had very little social interaction outside of our home and our very small children. Life was, indeed, very hectic and very hard.
For those of you who think life got ridiculously difficult last year after I lost my intestine, you only know part of the story.
Life was also very personally painful during the first few years of our marriage, for my Jeff did not epitomize the model of a Christian husband. Though he was a believer, striving to serve our Lord, there were many heartbreaking issues he brought, unresolved, to our marriage: anger, lack of self-control, and a disregard for boundaries.
That Jeff was fear-inspiring.
That Jeff no longer exists, praise God.
In the year before I lost my intestine, God had been working mightily in his heart, in my heart, and in our marriage. We had been in counseling several times, together and alone, because we were determined that Satan, bent on the ultimate destruction of our home, would not win and we were willing to humble ourselves and seek outside help. Our home had finally become a place of peace when my medical mishap occurred. Trials have a funny way of stripping everything down to its core and pruning away those dead branches that bear no fruit, and though the pruning may be excruciating in dealing with past hurts, getting rid of those useless branches open a way for new life and new growth. Trials prove the mettle of man, shows where his heart is, and serve as a catalyst for either spiritual growth or spiritual death.
I will not take time to share with you Jeff’s journey, for that is his story to share, but my trial and the loss of my intestine was a vehicle that drove Jeff onward in his journey toward spiritual maturity. This is the man I’d like to tell you about.
Maturity does not take place overnight, and yet Jeff has become a man who I greatly admire and respect. I’ve always known how intelligent he was, for indeed, most of the blogs I write are a direct result of conversations we’ve had and thoughts he’s challenged me with. Intelligence alone, the knowledge of what is, is not enough, though, to merit respect. Even Satan’s lackeys know who Jesus is. Intelligence combined with spiritual awareness and understanding produces wisdom, which leads me to trust his judgment in all matters, knowing he has our family’s best interests at heart and not his own.
Jeff is a servant. He works many evening shifts, and yet, in the middle of the night when our children cry, he is the first one up to check on them. He began that when I was first home from the hospital and couldn’t get up. Now, it is such a hassle to unhook my heavy TPN bag and get myself down the hall that he still sees to our children’s nocturnal needs, no matter how little sleep he’s gotten. And he doesn’t complain about it.
Jeff is funny. He used to tease and flirt with me like he was in middle school, which got really old on, oh, about the first date. His level of flirting and pawing at me may not have changed all that much, but he is sensitive to my rough days, and has toned his teasing down tremendously when he knows I can’t handle it. He is conscientious of my physical limitations and sacrifices his need for intimacy when I’m in pain or too exhausted to even look at him with a wink of romance (and that’s quite often).
Jeff is a modern man. He helps with laundry, unloads the dishwasher every morning, irons his own clothes, and cleans the bathrooms when I haven’t gotten to them. When he was out of work for those 8 months taking care of me, it used to annoy me because he was treading on my terrain…but now I realize I couldn’t have gotten everything done (and still can’t) if it wasn’t for his help. He bathes the children and gets them ready for bed if he’s home and I’m stuck on the toilet. He might forget to detangle the girls’ hair, but at least they’re clean and their teeth are brushed.
Jeff is bold when he needs to be and does the distasteful things I don’t like to do; I have a problem calling people on the phone (and I don’t know why) and he will make those phone calls for me. Jeff is a visionary; he has grand ideas. He can preach, he can teach, he writes wonderful curriculum. He is kind, he is sensitive, and I love to see him working with children.
Jeff can sing. When we were dating he would serenade me with old 80’s love songs, some of which I’d never heard. He’d be sweating and shaking, waiting, I suppose, for me to laugh at him. I never did, and those became some of the sweetest memories of our dating months. He still sings to me, but not as often.
Jeff has put into practice patience like I never thought he could. He still does things in a hurry and becomes impatient to be through, but it no longer explodes into an angry tirade. He comes home happy from work, rather than sullen or discouraged, and he makes a practice of encouraging me, asking me questions about how I feel, and really takes time to make sure I feel loved.
He brings me (and the girls) flowers…just because. He hugs me, kisses me, and tells me he loves me. He gently corrects me when I’m wrong and doesn’t lose his temper if I get in a huff over something inconsequential. He simply says, “Now wait a minute…” And if we do get angry at each other because we are imperfect people, there is no fear of retribution involved, and we’re usually able to laugh our argument to an end by one of us saying something ridiculous, hold our hands and say “Let’s start over…” He doesn’t hold grudges against me and he makes it impossible to hold one against him.
My Jeff is simply the best man that I know and I would follow him the world over if he believed that’s where God was leading our family. He said this has been the best year of our married life, in spite of all the physical challenges I’ve had, and I must say, I have to agree.
I thank you, Holy Father, for bringing Jeff into my life. I thank you for the painful times, for allowing us to seek you more fully, becoming more like you through our aches and hurts. I thank you for not being finished with us, for promising to complete us, and for giving Jeff your mind, your heart, and the ability to see past his own past to become the man you planned him to be, the father you knew he could be, and the husband he must be. I thank you for six short years of marriage and the lifetime of lessons already imparted. I thank you for this treasure of a man you have deigned me worthy to belong to, and I pray you protect his mind, his eyes, his heart, and most importantly, his life.
Happy anniversary, my dear.
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