Remember that catchy tune of the 70’s—“Macho Man”
by The Village People? But that’s not my husband. He’s not a macho man. He’s not
a muscular-bound hunk who, with one wink would melt me to nothing.
Instead, I married a man I cannot understand. If you were to peek into our
family room, you’d find my husband, Gene on the recliner with a bowl of
chocolate ice cream balancing on his slightly protruding belly, pausing only to
press the buttons on the remote control. But if you ask him, he’d insist that
he’s religiously committed to his exercise routine—every Memorial Day, Labor
Day, or any other Monday holiday throughout the year.
Late at night, I call him to come to bed, but he doesn’t budge from the couch.
His sniffs are a sure telltale sign that he’s been moved (again) by one of his
favorite movies--“It’s A Wonderful Life.” Hmm. I wonder if my sons will grow up
displaying that sensitive reaction, contrary to that of the typical macho man?
Nothing has changed over the years. Ever since my sons were small, and even
during their teenage years, he’d throw his arms around them and hold them in a
big bear hug. And the wide-eye gaze from their girlfriends’ didn’t faze him. He
had no qualms in displaying his affection.
I scratch my head at the advice he gives them. Instead of emphasizing they need
to strive to succeed, he tells them to make God first in their lives.
And he also teaches me lessons—ones I never asked to learn. Many years ago,
financial records showed employees had stolen from the business we ran at that
time. He devised a plan. He announced to the family that he had reached a
compromise with those responsible. He asked them to repay only a fraction of
what they had taken and agreed to drop the charges. But he stated a
condition--which they listened to his explanation of forgiveness. He explained
to our family that teaching them about God’s forgiveness held a higher priority
than sending them to jail. Goodness, I just couldn’t understand his reaction to
those who had wronged us.
Dealing with my parents is another area he handles with unusual flair. He
readily agreed to invite them to live with us, but what leaves me in awe is his
attitude toward them. They’re only his in-laws. I imagine he must know when he
shows genuine care for them, it’s an extension of the love he has for me.
Our life goes on. No matter what kind of day we have, he still kneels with me
for our nightly prayer. This never-missed routine has been the glue that held us
together even through moments when neither one of us understood life.
Perfect he’s not, but he has a perfect way of displaying Godly qualities. I
assume he peeked into the manual he must hide under the mattress, “How To Be a
Real Man.” And he must have read a husband earns his wife’s respect and
admiration when actions follow his words.
Amazing me once again, when I lost my sight, he remained true to the vow he made
on our wedding day—for better or for worse.
In my physical darkness, I felt worthless, ugly and unlovable, but with his
love, he turned me into a queen. And wearing the crown of his devotion, each day
is a celebration of another Valentine.
Janet jeckles@cfl.rr.com
www.janetperezeckles.com
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