I know a lot of women who think they're married to the best man on the planet. Well ladies, I know that I really am married to the BEST! If you'd told me as a freshman in college that my future husband was, at the time, a freshman in high school, I might have barfed. Gross! But, it's true. My darling is 4 years my junior. It surprised me when were dating that I was so attracted to him. I'm the youngest of 6 girls and growing up I always identified better with people older than me. So to find my soul mate in someone that much younger than me was a pleasant surprise.
When we were newlyweds, I was training for my 1st marathon- something I'd dreamed of doing for years. My husband loves sports, but is not a runner. Not at all. No way. Don't even think about it. Despite that, he wanted to be supportive. So he rode the bike with me during a handful of my long Saturday runs. Until he ran into a mailbox. Yes, you read that right. We had a speedometer on the bike and I had asked him to tell me how fast I was going. He would go back and forth from glancing at the speedometer, to looking to see if he was totally in step with me. And then before I knew it, he was not at my side anymore. He'd managed to run into the only mailbox out on the edge of the sidewalk for at least a mile. His hand was bloody and I think he left a dent in that poor, metal, mailbox. Since we were only a few miles in to my run I refused to turn around and head for home. The man actually stayed with me through the whole run! Was he annoyed? You betcha! But, he still stuck with me. He didn't ride with me on my long training runs much more after that. I've never blamed him.
In the years since, he's been at every marathon finish line, except one (have you ever been at a marathon finish line and you're not a participant? talk about booooooring! and he brought the kiddos once they had joined our little clan). In my athletic pursuits he's always let me do what I want and figure out for myself when I've done too much or given myself unrealistic goals. He's been my sports psychologist when my multiple attempts to get into the Boston Marathon have been foiled. He's let me cry on his shoulder when my hips have been in pain for so long I just can't take it anymore. He massages my feet, does the dishes when I'm at work (I work a swing shift), buys me flowers "just because" sometimes because he knows I love them. He always remembers my birthday and usually gets the kids in on doing something fun and surprising for me. He's never been remotely bothered by my absolutely hideous varicose veins or my small bra cup size. In the past few months as I've had to face the fast-upcoming demise of a loved sister. He's listened to me rant and tries to offer words or comfort. He tries to understand when I have random moments when I miss my deceased father very acutely. We've talked about how all this crap in life might fit into God's Plan.
And, did I mention he's in law enforcement? He's a parole officer and therefore deals with people who have serious problems and are literally menaces to society. He comes home emotionally and mentally wiped out. Every. Single. Day. I see the toll his job has on him. He often needs to de-escalate. But instead of choosing something destructive like alcohol or pornography, he plays basketball and video games (and even with these, he uses a lot of scrutiny in choosing which games to purchase so they're at least somewhat clean). All this makes me love him even more. That he is able to be such a loving and steady husband and father, regardless of what his current profession is, blows my mind. I did indeed marry up.
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