Ode

I wrote most of this post on Sunday, but I didn’t have time to finish it or post it because our friend Monique’s house caught on fire and that took up most of our night. Long story.

Then I almost scrapped the whole post because it was too late by the time I could get to it agin.

But I’ve always thought we should give people “birthweeks” instead of birthdays, anyway, because the whole thing just seems too big to squeeze into 24 hours. So, in honor of my wife’s birthweek, here is a post about her birthday.


Today my wife turns 33 years old. Below is a picture of her the way she really looks, or at least the way she looked a month or two ago. I chose that picture because it exemplifies who she is and how she lives and loves.

When I was a kid, I thought 30 was old. Okay, when I was in college, I thought 30 was old. We live and learn, right? It’s all relative. To each his own. Whatever. Pick your cliché. I was wrong. 30 isn't old. It's wise and seasoned and such.

So she's 33 now, and I think she's just hitting her stride. Pace yourself, baby, or you're going to be too awesome for words by the time you're 40.

Anyway, first, let’s talk about her looks.

What, that offends you? Too shallow? Too surface? "All men care about is physical appearance!" That's probably what you're thinking.

Well, that’s bullcrap. I mean, men do care a lot about looks, but let’s not be unreasonable about that. Everybody cares about looks. A lot. Men are just too stupid to handle that realization with style and subtlety. But they're not unique in their vanity.

What, you don’t think everybody cares about looks?

Let me put it like this. When people go to the Grand Canyon or the Taj Mahal, you don't ever hear anyone saying, “well, it is really pretty, sure, but does it know any Bible verses?”

No. You don’t hear that because good looks count too.

And I’m just saying my wife is beautiful. 33 and totally hot. Deal with it.

Now that we've got that straight, here’s a list of things, in no particular order, that make me glad she was born:

--She laughs at my jokes, and even though she’s funny, she usually lets me get the laughs.

--She understands Jesus and the Kingdom in ways that I don’t, but she treats me like I’m the smart one.

--She’s sort of shy and reserved in public, but when she’s with my sons, she’s like a whole crazy, fun, sugar-rush circus show wrapped up in a single person.

--She can military press more than I can, but she never mentions it when I’m feeling down.

--She reads voraciously, but she’s not a book-snob (if you don’t know what a book-snob is, you might be one).

--She doesn’t care what the critics say about anything. She enjoys what she enjoys and is absolutely unapologetic about it.

--She loves to dance.

--She organizes everything. No, really, everything.

--She hates doing Quickbooks, but she does it because I hate it worse.

--She has great hair.

--She never complains that we can’t get pregnant, but instead feels sorry for women who never adopt.

--She eats dessert and cheese and bacon, but she looks like a movie star.

--She knows I’m generally a sissy and an idiot, but she makes me feel like a man anyway. This is one of those important intangibles, and lots of women stink at it.

--She never acts like all men are stupid and all women are oppressed or any of that ridiculous crap.

--She knows when I can’t get a word out, and she jumps in and rescues me from the burden of having to stutter for days.

--She lets me dream.

--She never, ever makes me look like a fool.

--She thinks about everything.

--She hates it when I’m gone, but she sends me away because we both know that sometimes I have to go.

--Her left hook is, honestly, pretty good. But she only uses it on the heavy bag.

--She can sing, but she doesn’t really care.

--She loves Jesus more than she loves me.

--She loves me more than she loves our children.

--She loves our children more than she loves herself.

That’s not an exhaustive list (the exhaustive list would be, among other things, inappropriate for anyone else to read) but it’s enough. I love her, and I’m giddy, still, that she’s alive and that she’s my wife.

Even though it’s really late, you can go here and tell her happy late birthday if you want.