I realize I so often post about my parents or R and seldom speak of my husband except in passing.
He is the optimist that I only dream of being. At varying times he has lost contact and relationship with his children through the hands of another. He lost in 1999 ALL that he had acquired over his adult life, 2 houses, furniture, and as a photographer probably the most painful thing – thousands of pictures of his babies.
This is not a sad post. He is a resilient happy go lucky individual. His life mottos include “This is nothing” and “Life is good”.
His eternal optimism is a major segment of what attracted me to him and so much of what we battle over, when we battle.
His faith is an example to me – upon losing so much, he responded “I am where God wants me to be”. Some people might view that as an excuse or copout. I just don’t get the sense with him.
He has such a wonderful outlook on finances, infertility, and problems associated with being divorced with children. He is always on board for home improvements and helping me with weightloss.
Yesterday on my birthday he presented me with a tiny square package – it was soft and malleable. It was wrapped so carefully – I couldn’t imagine what it might be. A million possibilities raced through my head – I peeled back a corner and in addition to a vice of mine he had given me the gift of laughter. In the package lay a York Peppermint Patty. I laughed with gusto. His van has no air conditioning and we live in the south. The malleability was due to 100+ heat. Little does he know that gift of laughter on a dark day surpassed the gift he toted in – a Lenox candle lamp.
He brings so much joy into my life – which is good because, as he would tell you, his life does not – but he cannot help that and this is the road I chose in order to be with my cheerleader and best friend.
He is our spiritual leader and a good moral compass.
Last night when winding down the day, I felt so blessed from the distant friendship I feel from many people who read my blog – the comments I received brought me to tears – good tears – hopeful tears.
I, in a spoiled manner, lamented that not a soul had sung happy birthday to me – on cue he grabbed his cell phone, looked through his directory and called an unknown party. He told this person that they were to sing happy birthday to me. It turned out to be one of my wonderful brothers in law. It was the most wonderful purposefully offkey rendition of Happy Birthday I have ever heard.
I have learned many lesson about faith, grace, and love from my husband.
Tonight I am thankful for my dear bunny – who is just “overjoyed” that bunny is my nickname for him.