Married to a saint . . .

No, not a football player. But a saint, nonetheless. Anyone who knows me already knows that he is a saint. He's been married to me for 22 years. He'd have to be a saint! lol! And anyone who knows him already knows it, too. He's just a great guy, my sweet hubby. Patient. Kind. Loving. Tolerant.

Well, anyway, this particular post is regarding his latest incredible act of tolerance. I'm a scrapbooker. If you are a scrapbooker, you already know what that means. I also sew, teach scrapbook classes, sell scrapbook things, and do custom orders. Needless to say, I have stuff. Lots of stuff. It's everywhere. I even have my own room for my stuff. I've had my own room for a while. But I've never managed to get all my stuff collected into one room. There's some in a closet in our bedroom. There's some in the den where I watch tv (remains of the Christmas card project). There's some in the living room waiting to be moved to it's new spot in my room. Right now there's some on the kitchen table (current project I was working on while baby sitting grandchild and needed to be close to where she was playing). And there's still some in the room I used to have before I moved into my current room. Yep, it's everywhere.

But that's not what this post is about. Recently, I acquired a lot of vintage ribbons and trims. Not that I needed them. But that's beside the point. For the last week or so, I have been hand washing all of them to get them ready for sale or to go in my stash. HAND washing. In our bathroom sink. Every time he went in the bathroom to take his contacts out, or brush his teeth, or shave, he waited for me to move the ribbons. Sink full after sink full after sink full . . . you get the picture. Well, almost. Then they have to be hung to dry. On clothes hangers in our shower. From our shower head. In our bathroom. Every time he got ready to get in the shower they had to be moved. Day after day after day. When they stopped dripping they were transferred to our bedroom door to hang to finish drying. It was kind of like having one of those old fashioned beaded curtains over our door. Except not beaded and slightly damp.

Not one complaint. Not one snarky comment. Not one angry outburst.

Through all this process we have been passing a really nasty cold around our house. And sweet hubby, who rarely gets sick, got it. When he gets a cold, he's, um, a very noisy sleeper. (Was that tactful enough? lol) I tend to have trouble sleeping. Noise keeps me awake. I'm not nice when I can't sleep. So, bless his heart, he insisted on sleeping on the couch for the entire four nights he was sick, so that I could sleep. Possibly in self defense, but still . . .

Not one complaint. Not one snarky comment. Not one angry outburst.

In addition to all of that, we have had a significant change in our lives in the last month. Sweet hubby is an incredible musician. He plays in numerous bands, does arranging, recording, and engineering for other musicians, and, until the end of last year, led worship at our church. With his resignation there, and us changing churches, he no longer has an office. So all of his equipment came home. Keyboards, sound mixers, amps, music stands, boxes of music, recording equipment, etc., etc., etc. My job right after Christmas was to get the living room set up for him to create a studio to work in. But I got sidetracked with the ribbon project and some other work related things and just didn't get around to it. So all of his equipment is piled in the den and in the trunk or the car. And still . . .

Not one complaint. Not one snarky comment. Not one angry outburst.

Now some of you who do not know him at this point may be thinking he's just a wus. Not true. Actually, the truth is, he's just that nice. A true gentleman. A man of incredible integrity. A gift from God. And he chose to be married to me. WOW! Even after 22 years, this still just blows me away. And here's something that will probably blow you away. In all the time we've been married, even before we were married, not once, never, not even one time, has this wonderful man even hinted at being attracted to another woman. Not a comment on another woman being pretty, or sexy, or even slightly attractive. NEVER!

Don't get me wrong, he's not perfect. He makes mistakes. He gets frustrated. But no matter what, I know that he will always try to do what he thinks is right. And part of that means not saying things that you'll regret later and always putting the ones you love ahead of yourself. His life is such a great example to me of what it truly means to 'die to self'. A life given to God is a life given in service to Christ and to others. I'm so thankful that I have a daily reminder of this living right in front of me. Sometimes I forget what really matters. This past week I've been blown away by my sweet hubby's selflessness. I want to be more like that, less like me, more like Jesus. This is my verse that will be taped on my mirror for a while. The bathroom mirror. Over the bathroom sink. That doesn't have any ribbons in it. So my husband can shave, brush his teeth, and take his contacts out without having to wait for me to move something first. Yep. I'm married to a saint.

"He must increase, but I must decrease." John 3:30

Is Jesus increasing in your life? Are you becoming more like him? If not, what's holding you back? And is it worth it? Whatever is keeping you from living the life God intended you to live needs to be re-evaluated. Trust Jesus to be your example. Give him everything. You won't regret it. I promise!

Blessings,
Renea