Happy Texas Independence Day y’all! When I was growing up this was a state holiday, a day off from school. March 2nd was as important as July 4th, if not more so. My first memories of school were about Texas history classes. Learning about Stephen F. Austin, Sam Houston, and the heroes of the Alamo was one of the most important lessons to learn. Now that I’m a grown-up (that’s debatable) I think they should have been called Texas ‘myth’ classes instead. However, I’ll save that discussion for another time…
The real celebration this March 2nd is that Margaret and I have been married for seven years today. I find it difficult to put into words the joy and the love I share with this beautiful woman. Many of you know Margaret. You understand what I mean.
Margaret, I love you more with each passing day. I didn’t think that possible. I’m constantly amazed by your grace and love for others. Your love for God and your quiet strength is probably what the writer of Proverbs 31 had in mind.
“A good woman is hard to find, and worth far more than diamonds…
She’s quick to assist anyone in need, reaches out to help the poor…
When she speaks, she has something worthwhile to say, and she always says it kindly…
Her children respect and bless her; her husband joins in with words of praise: Many women have done wonderful things, but you’ve outclassed them all! Charm can mislead and beauty soon fades. The woman to be admired and praised is the woman who lives in the Fear-of-God. Give her everything she deserves! Festoon her life with praises!” (from Proverbs 31 – The Message)
Happy Anniversary Baby! I love you. It is my honor and privilege to be your husband!
I came home from my Sunday morning meeting and spent a long time lost in thought. Today is a special day of celebration in my life: probably more important than all the other holidays combined. I reflected on the friends who made it all possible. I cannot begin to come close to expressing my love and appreciation for them. You see, fourteen years ago I surrendered to God’s infinite grace and began an incredible, mystical journey with these people. Life began again. Dreams became. Miracles happened. In fact, I’ve come to depend on them. I’m living proof. I celebrate fourteen years free from the bonds of addiction, selfishness and self-obsession.
I don’t often speak of my recovery on social media. For most of my life I’ve been an example of what NOT to do. I wouldn’t want anyone to judge the recovery process by my actions. I chose a program of recovery that taught me how to rely on the God of my understanding to break the cycle of addiction, to correct my oft repeated shortcomings, and be of use to others. It has worked for me for a while now.
It gave me a relationship with God that grows more intimate each day. It offered me a new set of glasses through which I see the world as God would have me see His creation (most of the time at least). Where there only existed failure, depression, and endless desperation before, my life is filled with light and infinite possibility. I never dreamt that life could be this way. I know what joy and freedom are today. I’m recovering the life God intended for daily. Pretty damned amazing if you ask me…
I thought of my friend and mentor, Jim, who walked alongside me throughout much of the journey. He followed an eternal path almost two years ago. Not a day goes by that his voice doesn’t speak to me, either in my head or through my friends. One friend in particular, Edgar, frequently quotes “Jimisms”. He always seems to know when they’re truly needed.
I thought about my brother Craig who opened his home when I needed it most. I spent five years sitting in his woodshop, sharing coffee, prayer, and spirit. No man is more blessed than me. I always wanted a brother. I had to wait fifty years to get one!
Perhaps most of, I thought about the woman in the next room who shares life with me; the woman that God (and recovery) gave me. Most of you know my wife Margaret. Most of you know Margaret broke her leg a few weeks ago. It’s been non-weight bearing and will be for several more weeks. It has been my honor and privilege to be her legs these last few weeks; to bring coffee, to help her to the chair, and push her wheelchair. Recovery taught me what it means to love someone else, to be in a relationship with God and the love of my life. It made it easy to exchange vows and really mean it. She is the light of my life and brings me joy on this walk together.
I would be remiss if I failed to tell you how important each of you are in my life. I once told my friend Rusty that I could finally count my true friends on more than one hand. He told me I was blessed: most people can’t say that. From a life of isolation and loneliness I been brought into a life that almost feels too full at times. I somehow make room for it though. When I don’t God helps me make it bigger.
Above all, I know all is grace. I don’t deserve any of the blessings I enjoy today. I’m unbelievably thankful I didn’t get what I deserve – clean or using. What I received was an endless supply of love and grace instead. As my brother Craig reminds me, “God is especially fond of me” (and you, too!).
One of the greatest gifts I’ve ever received is waking up each day to a new and bright world full of hope and possibilities no matter what the newspaper (does anybody still read those?) may say. I get to “live creatively” as the Apostle Paul would say.
Thank you for being a part of this wonderful journey…
I enjoyed the sunrise a tad more than usual today. The birdsongs were louder and more melodic today. Perhaps it’s in anticipation of another delightful autumn day in Cowtown knowing that by the time this is posted it will be a a couple of days of record-breaking arctic chill…
Most of you know that my wife, Margaret, broke her leg in
one of the worst spots possible. The good news is surgery wasn’t required. It
was a clean break and will heal without pins, plates, and various orthopedic
hardware. The bad news is that Margaret can’t put any (as in none, zero, zilch)
weight on her left leg for the next eight weeks or so.
That means that her already limited mobility is now reduced
to sitting, standing, and pivoting on one foot to make it from the bed to the
wheelchair. From there she can go to a living room chair and sit. She watches
TV and works on one of her many artistic endeavors involving crotchet hooks and
tatting needles. She’s presently working on a baby blanket for our grandson.
She says she now has time to get it finished well before the projected due date
It’s beyond difficult for Margaret to get around. We moved
the kid’s bed into the living room since she can’t get in and out of our bed. A
few inches in height make a huge difference these days. The kid’s sleeping in
our room as a result. Our world, our more accurately, our routine, has been
turned on its head.
I hate to admit just how much I’ve become a creature of habit. I catch myself falling into patterns reminding me of my father. Not that it’s a bad thing. My Dad was a loving, caring man so I intend no disrespect. It’s simply one more reminder I’m growing older. It’s just a part of life but I’m not quite ready to take on senior airs.
My routine has been completely broken and I’m a bit
scattered as of late. The demands have increased as well. Margaret, the house
upkeep, and the farm swallow each waking moment. Quite frankly, I get worn out
by the end of the day. I’m far from clear-headed in the morning which
significantly alters my “porch time” and writing time.
I become irritated and get “put out” with everyone at times.
Then I feel guilty for feeling the way I do. It’s not a great place to be. I
feel in conflict with my feelings and my values. I do what I do out of love
right? Why do I feel this way?
The answer came as I prepared another cup of coffee for my wife.
Margaret and I knew each other for almost nine years before
we ever dated. The night before our friend Stan’s memorial in 2012, we met
several friends from out of town and all went out to dinner (IHOP may not be
known for great food but it holds a special place in my heart).
Afterward, Margaret and I went out front to smoke and ended up out there
talking for four hours. That led to our first date a week later (and marriage
three months after that!).
During our conversation, Margaret said she often felt like
no one wanted to date a woman who they would have to push her in a wheelchair
if they went downtown for coffee or dinner. I told her that I didn’t understand
why anyone would feel that way. “It would be an honor and a privilege to push
your wheelchair”, was my immediate response and I meant it.
I tell you this because it occurred to me this morning what
an honor and a privilege it is to “push my wife’s wheelchair”, to serve the one
I love. You see, I’d allowed all the flurry of activity to distract me from the
truly important thing in my life – the honor to have Margaret as my wife.
An Honor and a Privilege
My friend Jim once asked me if I knew what honor was. I
responded with a flat, somewhat emotionless, dictionary definition. He said that’s
not it and then drew in a short quick breath; the kind you have when you’re
suddenly startled or awed by something. He smiled and said, “that’s honor”.
I was confused. “What’s honor?”
He drew another short, quick breath and again said, “that’s
Jim had a way of using metaphors in a way that often
irritated me. “What in the world do you mean?” and I imitated the breath he’d
He said that honor was like that breath. Honor was seeing
your wife come into a crowded room and seeing her takes your breath away. Honor
was about keeping that breathtaking moment in your memory. I began to see the
dictionary definition in a whole new light.
Used as a noun, honor means “high respect; great esteem”.
It also is “adherence to what is right”. Thus, honor is an attitude whereby I
hold my Margaret in “high respect” and “great esteem”. It’s about my perception
of my wife.
Honor, as a noun, is my intention. Unfortunately, we are
never judged on our intentions, only our actions. To honor someone is to “regard
with great respect” and to “fulfill (an obligation) or keep (an agreement).
As I was going to get Margaret another cup of coffee this
morning it dawned on me – the occasional frustrations, and yes, even selfishness
I felt on occasion was simply an opportunity to learn to love, cherish, and
honor my wife better. Suddenly, serving didn’t feel like a chore, an
obligation. I remembered March 2nd, 2013 when I said those vows to
love, honor, and cherish the woman I married.
The words of the Apostle Paul in his letter to the Ephesians came to life:
Husbands, go all out in your love for your wives, exactly as Christ did for the church – a love marked by giving, not getting. Christ’s love makes the church whole. His words evoke her beauty. Everything he does and says is designed to bring out the best in her, dressing her in dazzling white silk, radiant with holiness. And that is how husbands ought to love their wives. They’re really doing themselves a favor – since they’re already ‘one’ in marriage.” (Ephesians 5:25-28 – The Message)
I’ve yet to meet anyone who lives this out perfectly, but I
have been privy to long, loving marriages that are an example of what to
Margaret, if you’re reading this, know that today I will honor you in every way possible. It is my privilege to be your husband (and I still think you got the short end of the stick…). I cherish every moment with you, and I’m honored you allow me to be of service. I would gladly push you in a wheelchair or walk beside you and hold you up. And by the way, you still take my breath away every time you enter the room…
Ah, Monday morning… I haven’t been on the porch much for the
last week. I’ve alternated between the hospital and Opal’s Farm and had a few
late nights, so the porch has been a bit lonely. I was able to catch a breather
this morning and so, here goes…
As most of you know, Margaret has been in the hospital for
the last week. I’m not going to share the details. Her condition has been moved
from critical unstable to critical stable. Things have been up and down: on
several occasions the doctors thought they had the problem solved only to erupt
again. However, after several tests and procedures they believe it may be taken
care of. We’re in a wait and see mode today. We’re praying all is well and the
final option of surgery is no longer necessary.
While there’s never a good time for a medical crisis, this
one came right in the middle of fall planting at the farm. We are so blessed to
have friends and family as well as a short distance to the farm from the
hospital. I’ve been able to spend some time watering the new seed and finishing
preparations for the next round. Thanks to Charlie Blaylock for helping us out.
We’ll be able to plant the next phase by Tuesday.
The farm has been a saving grace during this situation. A
couple of hours working the soil here and there gives my mind a break. It
provides time to speak with God (I’m sure the cyclists and runners on the
Trinity Trail wonder who I might be talking to…) and most importantly, clear my
mind and change my perspective from fear to hope. It’s difficult not to be
hopeful working in a garden.
I had a long stream of thoughts this morning: far too many to share. It’s time to go back to the hospital and down to the farm. Please keep us in your thoughts and prayers. Hopefully, we are on the upside of Margaret’s situation and I’ll see you all at Cowtown Farmer’s Market next Saturday.
A quick note to my friends: I’m posting quickly this morning so I can get to the hospital to be with my wife, Margaret. I don’t want to go into details, but I do want to ask my friends for prayers. She’s having a test today which should (hopefully) give us some answers. Not knowing is difficult. I hope to keep everyone updated.
The greatest fear most of face is the unknown, the “what ifs”. Please pray we walk through the fear with acceptance and trust that God has got this (as He has everything else in our lives!). We know we are blessed beyond measure even when life comes barging in with its friend, fear.