43rd

43rd

Do you mind if I just unload for a minute? One of my real gripes is that people ask all of the time how I ever managed to get (and keep) a wife like Doris. The implication in that question is that she is perfect and I am, well, less than perfect, and so it is beyond their imagination that she would want to be with me all these years. Maybe it’s the COVID, maybe it’s just the frustration of 2020, but that has finally got the best of me and I need to get this off my chest. MY WIFE IS NOT PERFECT!

There, I said it. I know most of you are aghast that I would utter such a thing but it has to be said. As my pastor would say, “Let me prove it to you.”

She has not always demonstrated good judgment. 45 years ago, she watched me get out of a 1975, canary yellow Pinto, with my greasy hair, my tortoiseshell glasses, and my strapping 135-pound physique. I was SO immature, as a 22-year old college kid, I had the emotional acumen of a 15-year old. I was not much of a catch frankly. But when the time finally came that I mustered my courage to ask her out she said yes. And she has kept saying yes for over four decades. I submit to you, especially those of you that knew me way back then, that Doris obviously is a woman of very poor taste and very frail judgment.

Which leads me to another thing. She is very, very stubborn. I am sure you find that hard to believe but it is true. For example, she stuck by me, fought for me, and for our marriage, when a more reasonable, thinking person would have given up. She just refuses to quit and, once she has made up her mind about something she thinks God wants her to do, she can be downright obstinate.

And forgetful! That girl is so forgetful. It is not easy to live with her. We have been married 43 years today. Do you know what she said to me this morning? “I treasure every minute of it.” Now that is not what a perfect person would say. She seems to forget all of the boneheaded, stupid, even mean things I have done. She forgets my flaws, and failures, and foolish choices. Her memory is so selective. She is always talking about the good times, the wonderful things, the blessed episodes in our life. She can’t remember a thing.

And finally, (this is the cornkiller, a word she taught me), you would think, after all those other things that she must love me more than anything. NO! It is very obvious to me, to our kids, and to most who know her well, that she does not put me first on her list. She loves Jesus far more than she loves me or anyone or anything else. And she doesn’t mind people knowing that.

See, I’m telling you once and for all that my wife is not perfect. Of course, I think she’s knockdown gorgeous, of course she is one of the strongest, wisest, kindest people I have ever known, of course she can make a pecan pie that will make your tongue beat your brains to death, but she is far from perfect. Just sayin’.

But, we’ve been married for 43 years so, what am I supposed to do? I guess I’ll just stay with her for another 43. After all, nobody’s perfect.

I love you sweetheart. Happy 43rd anniversary.

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The Most Important Decision Ever

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What Difference Does That Make?

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