03 May I love my husband
Posted at 13:49h in Blogs, conifer fire, kristen moeller, love, marriage, wildfire 9 Comments
I love my husband. He was up before the sun, making coffee and writing his blog (www.northforkashes.com) – and these are not the only reasons I love him. I love him because he is a very good man. He is someone I am proud to go through this life with. Besides our melee on Sunday, we really haven’t fought during this stressful time. We have pulled together and are walking through this side by side.
We have more space for each other than usual. In the regular course of events, we get along well but often have little spats that sound like, “you stepped on my toe”, “no, you stepped on mine!” “Well, you did it first…” Or some equally ridiculous argument that most couples engage in. We haven’t been doing that recently.
I look into his tired eyes and see my own. I read his thoughtful words and allow them to alter me. I watch him cry as he thinks about how lucky I was to get out alive and the tragedy of the loss of our neighbors. He pats my head when I am too tired to think and the world seems very very dark. We crack up at each others jokes no matter how bad they are. And we experience pure joy as we watch our dogs ongoing antics – the ultimate proof of goodness in life.
Stress can rip people apart – and clearly it can bond people more deeply. David and I have walked through so many “things” in our 19 years together. A couple stands at the alter and says, “For richer or poorer til death do us part…” but do they really mean it? We didn’t use those exact words as we crafted our own vows – which met their fiery death in our wedding scrapbook – yet the sentiment was the same. At that oh-so important moment when couples stand together to create marriage within that context, the stats of divorce prove many people don’t really mean it. We have a back door of, “well, I will stay, at least until you do that one thing that I really can’t tolerate…” which may be anything from leaving the toilet seat up one to many times to infidelity.
Apparently, David and I really meant it when we chose each other and through thick and thin we have continued to choose us. We have had plenty of much needed support along the way. A special shout-out to Lon and Sandy Golnick as well as our loving community at Couples Coaching Couples– because of you all we are even more equipped to take this wild and wooly ride together.
We stand side by side for this new phase of our life, still not knowing what it will look like, still not seeing all the gifts that will come yet knowing that we will become stronger. We celebrate each other, read each others words, comfort each others pain, hold each others hand, fall asleep side by side. We are aligned on so many things, most importantly the willingness to allow life events to shape us into better people. Tragedy should wake us up and remind us to be better people, to live from what really matters vs. all the minutia of a “busy” life.
David and I promise to allow this tragedy to remind us of how precious life is and how quickly it can alter. At each major turning point in life, we have shifted our course. We bought our dream home, choosing to live an off-grid and rural lifestyle, after losing a baby. We bought our sailboat after a different “shake up” in our lives where we realized that even though we were living well, we were falling asleep at the wheel. Our little “Pixie Dust”, who waits patiently in the Exumas for our return, is a place of refuge. She is a reminder to live life now. She is the symbol of not waiting. Yes, buying a sailboat in the Bahamas was not a practical decision. We liquidated a savings account in our already depleted “portfolio” yet we have never once regretted the decision. What exactly is retirement anyway?
Life is simple on Pixie Dust. At 27 feet, there is space for both of us but not much more. Living in that tiny space, I reflect on how little we actually need: 2 pairs of shoes, 3 bathing suits, 3 pairs of pajamas, 2 pairs of shorts, a sweatshirt, a couple hats, sunscreen, books and music on our Ipads, good coffee, canned creamer – and not much else. Who really has to have more than that? Time on our little boat is magical. The only thing missing is our dogs and our dear friends.
Next week, we will move into our 26 foot 1967 Airstream who we have named “Flame”. Moving out of this lovely and large house into 26 feet will be interesting. We both “home office” so conference calls may be challenging. “Whose turn is it to sit in the car this time?” will be the question of the hour. But we are game. I worry about the dogs; have no idea what to do with the cat; am concerned about the dirty soot that still covers the property; wonder about laundry – and we will figure it out as we go.
As Helen Keller said, “Life is either a daring adventure, or nothing.” Apparently, we have chosen a daring adventure. Sometimes the choice has been ours, and sometimes it has been made for us.
I am grateful to walk through this fire with you my beloved husband. www.northforkashes.com