I Love My Wife

Today was a good day.  This Saturday we chose to make our monthly pilgrimage to Costco.  This is no minor endeavor since Abby was born, but all that much more necessary as we now depend on these regular treks to keep our family in stock with diapers and baby wipes.   Funny thing is, Jen and I actually look forward to these trips, but today’s was extra special.  We decided to have lunch first and after driving around Frederick we stumbled upon a Chipotle restaurant.  I swear, our ears popped as the pressure in the car suddenly dropped due to our simultaneous intake of breaths. 

There is no way to convey my passion for Chipotle’s carnitas (pork) burritos, but I can assure you it pales in comparison to Jen’s obsession with Mexican food, especially black beans and rice!  So when upon our discovery, my immediate pleadings with Jen to eat at Chipotle, were a mere formality.  Even as she tried to answer as if she were relenting out of the kindness of her heart, I knew she was already imagining the taste of Chipotle’s cilantro lime rice and black beans, smothered with sour cream and cheese - trying hard not to let me notice her drooling more than Abby, teething in the car seat next to her.

There was never a doubt in my mind, and for that simple, silly reason - I love my wife.

My wife makes the very best coffee in the Universe.  The same coffee that we (affectionately) and our friends (with fearful respect) call ”The Black Death”.  It’s bold, it’s rich, it’s as black as night.  And I love my wife for making it.

When we were first married, Jen didn’t even appreciate coffee that was’t whipped, frapped, and sweeter than soda.  Over the next year or two, I believe that it was the inviting smell of my morning coffee that slowly turned Jen from her Gen-X coffee preferences. 

At somepoint, my wife asked me to show her how to brew coffee.  Eager to share my secrets, I took her under my wing. Slowly over the next couple years my wife began to brew the coffee herself.  I tutored her in the art of coffee grinding and on the science of bean to water ratios.  She would listen at length to me lecture about how superior the Arabica bean is to the Robusto.  And she never questioned that only Starbucks French Roast would be served in our house. 

I don’t know when, but the student unexpectedly became the master.  I can remember my shock when I realized that I preferred Jen’s coffee to mine own.  Since then, I’ve watch her make the same coffee that I now love above all many times.  I have studied her techniques for improvements and I’ve found none.  I am convinced that there is no scientific explanation for why her coffee is better than mine. 

 I guess I will have to settle for the suppernatural.  Perhaps it’s her passion for coffee.  Or maybe some sort of TLC that is the source of her coffee’s other-worldlyness.  What ever it is, I’m just glad it’s in the family.

It was not long after welcoming my daughter into this world that I told my wife, “You bake a good baby!” This statement means so much more than the miraculous fact that Abby grew from one to billions of cells inside her body, so let me define my wife’s mad baby baking skilz.

1. She loved being pregnant, every moment of it. I never once heard a complaint about an aching back or sore feet. God was merciful to spare much of the difficulties common to pregnancy, and Jen appreciated every second.
2. She was full of excitement and anticipation, always provoking joyful anticipation of our coming child.
3. She never denied me a close up inspection of her belly! I could clock hours cradling her midsection, and she never complained once.
4. The bigger her belly got, the more beautiful she got. Some women glow when their pregnant, Jen radiated.
5. Her first delivery - only three pushes - need I say more?

Finally, just sample the end product and you will instantly know that Jen only bakes the best.

To borrow a line made famous by Jerry McGuire, I love Jen because she completes me.

Genesis 2: 24-25
For this reason a man will leave his father and mother and be united to his wife, and they will become one flesh.
The man and his wife were both naked, and they felt no shame.

By design, we were incomplete, two parts of a whole yet separated until the day we spoke our vows. It was with each other in mind that we were made, with our ultimate union completing God’s work.

In truth, I uncover each day how lacking I am, and in turn discover how my wife offsets my deficiencies.  Like how I am so often insensitive to the world around me and she can be so tender. Or how I would otherwise be a hobbit, holed up in our home if not for her planning and desire to be among family and friends.

I also have the honor to return the favor. From opening a stubborn jar to being that rock for her when the world goes mad, I love that I can be of service to her in both small and great ways.

Most of all, I love that we not only compensate for each other’s deficiencies, but that we enhance each other’s strengths, or even together have something wonderful that is not there when we’re apart.  For instance, alone with each other, we are the silliest two people in God’s creation.  I am rarely as comfortable and at peace as I am when we are just fools with each other.  Apart, I think we would both make adequate parents, but together I have the confidence that God has provided the foundation for a fun, happy, and loving household.  And the of course there’s Abby - she is certainly proof that sometimes 1 + 1 = 3.

This first post must be dedicated to the greatest reason for which I treasure Jen so much, her creation. She was created for me, and I for her. By no accident, but rather by almighty God’s perfect and meticulous attention to detail, by God’s perfect and all powerful will, and according to His perfect and good plan Jen and I exist and are married.

What really takes my breath away is knowing that the purpose for which were created was to Glorify God. By design this goal will only be achieved together as Husband and Wife. With out Jen, I could never glorify God as I would be incomplete, and could therefore not even exist. Jen’s very creation assured my own.

Every time I see, touch, or kiss my wife, I will love her for being created.

And to God who created her, thank you for my wife, my constant reminder that you are real, that you are good, and that you love me beyond comprehension.