Two nights ago, I am doing my last check on FB before going to sleep, and there is her beautiful face. She is young in the picture, possibly newlywed or in college. Accompanying the picture is her obituary. As pleased as I am for her release from an ailing body and devastated mind, my heart is broken.
Phyllis and Charles Trevathan are possibly the best people to have happened to Mr. L's and my marriage. We were just two of the young people they loved and mentored. We only lived in the same town and attended the same church with them for three years, but those were very important years. I loved them, and they dearly loved my family and me. They devotedly loved all who came into their paths, and they had the ability to make everyone feel as though they were the "favorite." I have beautiful memories of time spent in their presence.
I am unable to attend either of her memorial services. I will be in Minnesota. She would understand. There is nothing I would love more, however, than to hug her daughters, and spend time with them reminiscing. They will be surrounded by those who loved their mother and those who love them. So, this morning, I am indulging myself with a lone journey down a path of sweet memories.
We met them at Bardstown Road church of Christ. We were newlyweds, and had only known each other a year. Mr. L was in law school, we lived in a tiny apartment, and were in a town where we knew absolutely no one. So, we looked for a church, and we found forever friends. My first memory of them was the telling of tales about a recent family trip to Disney World. I am fairly certain that the three beautiful dark haired little girls enjoyed the trip, but nobody enjoyed anything as much as Charles Trevathan. Thus, began the blossoming of my love for this family.
Two very important lessons stick in my mind that I learned at their feet. Charles once said that death was the final great adventure. He did not fear it. He actually looked forward to the thrill of it. He did for sure want to die "with his boots on." He and God orchestrated it perfectly, for he died in his office after having taught class at ACU. It was a great loss to us here, but I think he must have been one of God's most satisfying creations, for he had an enthusiasm and appreciation for all life had to offer. He was a rabble rouser, too, but always in an effort to be better than himself and to make those around him better than themselves.
Phyllis is the person who taught me that if you only had money to buy ham and beans, you eat the beans and give the ham to someone in need. I sincerely doubt that during her healthy years not one week went by that she did not feed someone in addition to her family. I know for about three years there, she fed two poor newlyweds at least once a week. Sunday afternoon dinner was a tradition. She made the most delicious meals in a tiny kitchen, feeding lots of folks. She had a dishwasher in that kitchen which did not work, so she kept her plastic wrap and aluminum foil in it. She did not complain, she just laughed about it.
These people had the practice of hospitality perfected. After Mr. L and I moved from Louisville, we would go back to spend weekends with Charles and Phyllis. They booted girls from their room so we would have a place to stay. She cooked our favorite meals. They took us to Lakeside (?) to swim, Phyllis packing a picnic lunch of homemade fried chicken and all the fixings-not your typical tuna sandwich and chips. I was pregnant on one of those trips to the pool. I horrified and terrified Charles and Phyllis by going down the giant slide there. When I realized how truly concerned she was, I did not go down again. One time when Marshall was little, we went to the zoo. Charles showed him all the animals, and carried him on his shoulders all day. They had the knack for making people feel as though they thought them perfect. One never felt inadequate when with Charles and Phyllis. That is a true spiritual gift.
Snow was a constant one winter we lived in Louisville. We went sledding at a golf course. Phyllis stayed home making homemade chili to warm us up upon our return. Toward the end of this great fun day, Charles, Mr. L and I decided to go down one last time. We stacked ourselves on that little wooden sled; Charles on the bottom, Mr. L in the middle, and me on top. We flew down that hill, when we hit a bump, got a bit of air, and landed hard the sled broke. Charles, who was never one to complain, said very little about the pain caused by his cracked sternum.
Charles was all movement and fidgeting energy. He could be sound asleep in his chair, and immediately upon waking he was on his feet ready to dash out for a late night run to White Castle. Phyllis had a more serene demeanor. They complemented each other well.
I have many precious memories of these people. There is much that has become part of my DNA, absorbed by simply being with them and witnessing them doing life. I will hold those moments close in my heart. I will live with gratitude that part of my earthly journey was spent traveling with them. I will look forward to being greeted by them when I move on to the next leg of this eternal voyage. I am certain that Charles will greet me with great enthusiasm over all there is to see and do, and Phyllis will present me with a plate of chocolate chip cookies.
So, my heart is full, and, yes, a little bit broken today. I regret that I cannot hug Phyllis's girls, and laugh and cry with them. I pray for them great memories of their daddy who left them ten years ago, and now their mama who departed this realm earlier this week. I do not know what happens after we leave this place, but I love imagining them back together. Perhaps, Charles is showing Phyllis all the best restaurants in heaven.
On this day I wish you full hearts capable of being broken at the loss of those with whom you have been privileged to journey and share love, and I wish you
Blessings
Friday, July 31, 2015
Tuesday, July 28, 2015
......And, we grieve again
There is a scene in The Thornbirds where people walk over a hill to the cemetery, yet, again, to bury a loved-one. Our family at Otter Creek will be making that trek again. We have lost another beloved member.
I did not know her well. There are many who did, and they loved her dearly. From the age of fourteen, she suffered with multiple physical maladies. When I consider her life, I think of a saying that has become a t-shirt icon: "though she be but little, she is fierce." Possibly, this originally referred to baby girls, but it is perfectly descriptive of this amazingly determined, yes, fierce woman.
She fought to live her life with purpose and dignity. She gave birth to a beautiful daughter; a daughter that conventional medical wisdom would have said was impossible. She knew better. She found in her devoted husband, a best friend.
Last week she grew weary of the fight. Make no mistake; she did not give up. She made the courageous choice to live her faith. She knew she could move peacefully on to the next phase of her eternal journey when family reassured her that she had served them well, and because of this, they will be fine.
This family, and her friends are weighing on my heart today. I think back twenty years ago when I, too, lost a good friend much too soon. She left a husband and three children. We survived the loss because we prayed and grieved, and remembered together. These who presently grieve will do likewise.
Life can be very painful as part of a church that cares and hurts so deeply. My life would be greatly diminished if I were not.
So, I am sad, yet grateful today. Grateful for having known, if only a little, Tracey Moore, and profoundly saddened for Kevin, Grace, and other family and friends.
I wish you, on this day,
Blessings
I did not know her well. There are many who did, and they loved her dearly. From the age of fourteen, she suffered with multiple physical maladies. When I consider her life, I think of a saying that has become a t-shirt icon: "though she be but little, she is fierce." Possibly, this originally referred to baby girls, but it is perfectly descriptive of this amazingly determined, yes, fierce woman.
She fought to live her life with purpose and dignity. She gave birth to a beautiful daughter; a daughter that conventional medical wisdom would have said was impossible. She knew better. She found in her devoted husband, a best friend.
Last week she grew weary of the fight. Make no mistake; she did not give up. She made the courageous choice to live her faith. She knew she could move peacefully on to the next phase of her eternal journey when family reassured her that she had served them well, and because of this, they will be fine.
This family, and her friends are weighing on my heart today. I think back twenty years ago when I, too, lost a good friend much too soon. She left a husband and three children. We survived the loss because we prayed and grieved, and remembered together. These who presently grieve will do likewise.
Life can be very painful as part of a church that cares and hurts so deeply. My life would be greatly diminished if I were not.
So, I am sad, yet grateful today. Grateful for having known, if only a little, Tracey Moore, and profoundly saddened for Kevin, Grace, and other family and friends.
I wish you, on this day,
Blessings
Monday, July 20, 2015
Rooted
I sat in church yesterday, and as we sang songs of hope and belief in God's eternal presence and provision, I looked around the room. I wiped tears away with a handkerchief that once belonged to one of my beloved friends and mentors. I looked around that room and was strengthened as I watched a young woman sing, "oh, no, you never let go through the calm and through the storm..." knowing that she is in the storm of a lifetime with a precious child battling a rare condition, and still she sings.
I watched a husband place his arm around his wife as they sang together, "I can see a light that is coming for the heart that holds on, and there will be an end to these troubles but until that day comes, still I will praise you..."knowing their son had his last chemo treatment for cancer on Monday, and still they raise holy hands to God, and they sing.
I saw a mother sing, "I will rise up, rise up, and bow down, and lay my crown at His wounded feet," knowing her heart is broken over a son's pain and struggle and it feels there was no beginning and there will be no end to the pain, and still she sings.
A precious woman, slowly fading from us because of that wicked disease, Alzheimer's sits with her devoted husband singing, "as the mountains surround Jerusalem, so The Lord surrounds His people....surround us oh, Lord...we need to be in your presence." They know not what the future holds. She will eventually not know of her past, and still they sing.
A young couple I love so dearly, and pray for daily. The longing of their hearts is eluding them. They could rail and toss it all in, but instead, hand in hand they sing, "My Jesus, as thou wilt, oh, may thy will be mine....Through sorrow, or through joy.....help me still to say, "my Lord, Thy will be done." They know not what the future may hold, and still they sing.
I see two women sitting together, one recently widowed, one divorced through no choice of her own. They find solace as they sing, "all shall be well with for me; each changing future scene I gladly trust with thee; straight to my home above I travel calmly on...." Their lives are not as they dreamed. They have, and continue to, live with the sadness of great and unexpected loss, and still they sing.
Rooted. Rooted in faith. Rooted in a church family. A church family that is trying, with all the messiness of family to live out that faith. I have a most grateful heart for this group of wounded, fatigued, messed up, hopeful, joyful warriors, of which I am only one, who remain deeply rooted.
For today, I wish you deep roots, the ability to sing in spite of the pain, and I wish you
Blessings
Saturday, July 18, 2015
Home
In my effort to appease my Fitbit by getting in 10,000 steps a day, I have come to appreciate my home more. I despise the summer heat. I cannot overstate my bordering-on-hatred dislike of heat and humidity. So, to get my 10,000 daily steps, I walk laps around my house. It is exactly 30 steps through the kitchen, dining room, living room and den. That is 333 1/3 laps. That many passes-by makes that which is so familiar seem new.
Our house was built in 1960, so it is old, but not that charming Victorian-Era-gingerbread-work-laden -porch kind of old, but more in that 1960's Ranch-they-all-look-alike kind of old. When I think of its construction, my mind often wanders to the childhood VBS song, "The Wise Man Built His House Upon the Rock." The problem is, I fear that our builder was a bit like the foolish man in the song. We live on shifting sand, or alluvial soil; something less dependable than rock. This creates interesting changes in the interior. Cracks open and close depending on how dry the weather is. We have to use a crowbar to open the front door which is quite convenient when solicitors happen by for I can truthfully tell them that I cannot open the door. Interior doors sometimes will stay closed, in fact there have been occasions when one bathroom door would stay closed so well that it could not be opened from inside the room, which is not terribly convenient, especially for guests. It is only moderately more convenient for them when we tell them if they prefer not taking a chance that some one might walk in on them, it would be wise for them to pull out the top drawer in the vanity to prevent any unwanted entrances.
As I walk my laps, I do not really focus on those things. Instead, I see things like all the windows that go to the floor and the rainbows dancing across the walls and furniture created by prisms hanging in those windows. I see these rainbows in a different, fuller way because of my friend Joan who taught her children that they were "prism people," casting rainbows over all they meet.
I love the little vignette in the foyer; a grand word for a rather tiny space right inside the front door,
but, which of course cannot be accessed by said door. There is a small round metal chippy table with 2 of the most uncomfortable metal chairs known to man. MP gave me that set as a thank you after she, Josh, and Simeon lived with us for a period of time before moving into their home. Hanging over that is a Paula Frizbe painting of a cake. I look at the painting and am reminded of a Christmas when
Mr. L and I agreed that we would not exchange gifts. There was no money for such. After the children had opened their packages, there was one left, hidden behind the tree. Mr. L. acted as though he was quite surprised at its presence. My name was on it. Puzzled, I opened it, and there was that painting; a painting that I had admired in my friend's home, and she secretly gave it to Mr. L. to give me. There is an old shutter in the corner with a pedestal in front of it. On the pedestal sits and ange, a gift from my mom. The walls are painted in bold yellow and aqua horizontal stripes. It brings me pleasure to enjoy the colors as I walk my laps.
In the living room there is a pillow that says, "Mellie and Fizzy-Established 2012; a gift from Marshall, Sheri, and Max. Because I cherish that position of Mellie, I dearly love that pillow. The
white sofa where the boys jump while I cheer, "pork chop, pork chop, greasy, greasy; we're gonna
jump up easy easy;" or "two bits, four bits, six bits a dollar, all for Sim and Max stand up and holler...yay!!!" On the main wall is an antique headboard and footboard. They were supposed to be crafted into a unique bench, but truth be told, if it was a bench then there would not be room for all the tables and chairs needed to accommodate the family and friends who decorate this home on Thanksgiving. There is the most exquisite chessboard designed and built by our son, and sitting on it are the figures brought back from Africa by our daughter. A yellow cabinet sporting a collection of Blue Mountain houses, most given to me by my dear Nancy. All these items and many others of o much value to me. If sold, they would not make me wealthy, but they make my life rich beyond measure.
The dining room wall, painted as if one was on a Victorian-Era-gingerbread work-laden porch brings me pleasure. My mind goes on a fanciful flight of that summer when my friend, Julie, became our Eldon as in the Murphy Brown series. She painted, we watched Rosie O'Donnell, we ate, and we looked at houses (found one) for her and her husband. It was a lovely time. As long as I live, I will
never paint over those walls. In the corner sits Paloma, a huge lamp that I turned into a candelabra. It belonged to the in-laws of a good friend, and when they moved to a nursing home, I was given the beautiful Italian woman lamp. I love her because I love my friend.
My kitchen is a plethora of color -red, aqua, lime green. There are shelves filled with salt and pepper shakers, collected over years. Many I bought myself, and many have been given to me. My sweet niece, Maclellan, has added so many charming sets to the collection. There is the T.P. Williams sign
that sat atop the mailbox where I lived from age 3 to age 22, when I married. Just that sign can conjure up memories of sledding, running down the hill to meet my daddy as he got off the bus coming home from work, the beautiful Mimosa trees on the corners of the front yard, my brother pogo-sticking up and down the street, all the dogs we had and loved, the decorations for every holiday that my mother meticulously arranged, and countless other memories.
The next, and last, room is the den. It too has a lot of color, prisms, rainbows. There is lots of red and yellow and green and aqua. Photographs of people and places I love cover the walls. The mantel was built by our son, the painting above it painted by our daughter, the fire screen made by Marshall of old barn wood adorned by a piece of architecture given to me by our son-in-law. On the wall above the sofa are plates painted by friends at my surprise 50th birthday party. A monogram picture of SWITZER with each letter a picture of some special thing in Sanibel that Sheri made. D.S., the sock monkey Mr. L. would not let me return when I discovered dirt on his face because he was afraid the stuffed monkey would be euthanized, sits in a child's rocking chair. At last, my hideous burgundy chairs are beautifully slipcovered in a lovely shade of red. There are always toys and books strewn willy nilly, and that bit of disorder brings me comfort and joy.
So, you see, it may look like I am simply walking laps around my house. Some might wonder how I stand the boredom of the sameness. What I am really doing, is strolling down memory lane, remembering-remembering places I have been, people I love, moments of great joy, some moments of deep sorrow. I walk with gratitude, knowing this is not my "dream" home, but also knowing that this is where many dreams have been dreamed, and where many dreams have come true. Every lap transforms the familiar into something new.
For today, I wish you joy in your home, 10,000 steps, and a break from the tyranny of 10,000 steps every now and then, and I wish you
Blessings
Please excuse typos, grammatical errors, weird soakings, and misspellings. I wrote this on my laptop, and it does not let me proofread easily.
Our house was built in 1960, so it is old, but not that charming Victorian-Era-gingerbread-work-laden -porch kind of old, but more in that 1960's Ranch-they-all-look-alike kind of old. When I think of its construction, my mind often wanders to the childhood VBS song, "The Wise Man Built His House Upon the Rock." The problem is, I fear that our builder was a bit like the foolish man in the song. We live on shifting sand, or alluvial soil; something less dependable than rock. This creates interesting changes in the interior. Cracks open and close depending on how dry the weather is. We have to use a crowbar to open the front door which is quite convenient when solicitors happen by for I can truthfully tell them that I cannot open the door. Interior doors sometimes will stay closed, in fact there have been occasions when one bathroom door would stay closed so well that it could not be opened from inside the room, which is not terribly convenient, especially for guests. It is only moderately more convenient for them when we tell them if they prefer not taking a chance that some one might walk in on them, it would be wise for them to pull out the top drawer in the vanity to prevent any unwanted entrances.
As I walk my laps, I do not really focus on those things. Instead, I see things like all the windows that go to the floor and the rainbows dancing across the walls and furniture created by prisms hanging in those windows. I see these rainbows in a different, fuller way because of my friend Joan who taught her children that they were "prism people," casting rainbows over all they meet.
I love the little vignette in the foyer; a grand word for a rather tiny space right inside the front door,
but, which of course cannot be accessed by said door. There is a small round metal chippy table with 2 of the most uncomfortable metal chairs known to man. MP gave me that set as a thank you after she, Josh, and Simeon lived with us for a period of time before moving into their home. Hanging over that is a Paula Frizbe painting of a cake. I look at the painting and am reminded of a Christmas when
Mr. L and I agreed that we would not exchange gifts. There was no money for such. After the children had opened their packages, there was one left, hidden behind the tree. Mr. L. acted as though he was quite surprised at its presence. My name was on it. Puzzled, I opened it, and there was that painting; a painting that I had admired in my friend's home, and she secretly gave it to Mr. L. to give me. There is an old shutter in the corner with a pedestal in front of it. On the pedestal sits and ange, a gift from my mom. The walls are painted in bold yellow and aqua horizontal stripes. It brings me pleasure to enjoy the colors as I walk my laps.
In the living room there is a pillow that says, "Mellie and Fizzy-Established 2012; a gift from Marshall, Sheri, and Max. Because I cherish that position of Mellie, I dearly love that pillow. The
white sofa where the boys jump while I cheer, "pork chop, pork chop, greasy, greasy; we're gonna
jump up easy easy;" or "two bits, four bits, six bits a dollar, all for Sim and Max stand up and holler...yay!!!" On the main wall is an antique headboard and footboard. They were supposed to be crafted into a unique bench, but truth be told, if it was a bench then there would not be room for all the tables and chairs needed to accommodate the family and friends who decorate this home on Thanksgiving. There is the most exquisite chessboard designed and built by our son, and sitting on it are the figures brought back from Africa by our daughter. A yellow cabinet sporting a collection of Blue Mountain houses, most given to me by my dear Nancy. All these items and many others of o much value to me. If sold, they would not make me wealthy, but they make my life rich beyond measure.
The dining room wall, painted as if one was on a Victorian-Era-gingerbread work-laden porch brings me pleasure. My mind goes on a fanciful flight of that summer when my friend, Julie, became our Eldon as in the Murphy Brown series. She painted, we watched Rosie O'Donnell, we ate, and we looked at houses (found one) for her and her husband. It was a lovely time. As long as I live, I will
never paint over those walls. In the corner sits Paloma, a huge lamp that I turned into a candelabra. It belonged to the in-laws of a good friend, and when they moved to a nursing home, I was given the beautiful Italian woman lamp. I love her because I love my friend.
My kitchen is a plethora of color -red, aqua, lime green. There are shelves filled with salt and pepper shakers, collected over years. Many I bought myself, and many have been given to me. My sweet niece, Maclellan, has added so many charming sets to the collection. There is the T.P. Williams sign
that sat atop the mailbox where I lived from age 3 to age 22, when I married. Just that sign can conjure up memories of sledding, running down the hill to meet my daddy as he got off the bus coming home from work, the beautiful Mimosa trees on the corners of the front yard, my brother pogo-sticking up and down the street, all the dogs we had and loved, the decorations for every holiday that my mother meticulously arranged, and countless other memories.
The next, and last, room is the den. It too has a lot of color, prisms, rainbows. There is lots of red and yellow and green and aqua. Photographs of people and places I love cover the walls. The mantel was built by our son, the painting above it painted by our daughter, the fire screen made by Marshall of old barn wood adorned by a piece of architecture given to me by our son-in-law. On the wall above the sofa are plates painted by friends at my surprise 50th birthday party. A monogram picture of SWITZER with each letter a picture of some special thing in Sanibel that Sheri made. D.S., the sock monkey Mr. L. would not let me return when I discovered dirt on his face because he was afraid the stuffed monkey would be euthanized, sits in a child's rocking chair. At last, my hideous burgundy chairs are beautifully slipcovered in a lovely shade of red. There are always toys and books strewn willy nilly, and that bit of disorder brings me comfort and joy.
So, you see, it may look like I am simply walking laps around my house. Some might wonder how I stand the boredom of the sameness. What I am really doing, is strolling down memory lane, remembering-remembering places I have been, people I love, moments of great joy, some moments of deep sorrow. I walk with gratitude, knowing this is not my "dream" home, but also knowing that this is where many dreams have been dreamed, and where many dreams have come true. Every lap transforms the familiar into something new.
For today, I wish you joy in your home, 10,000 steps, and a break from the tyranny of 10,000 steps every now and then, and I wish you
Blessings
Please excuse typos, grammatical errors, weird soakings, and misspellings. I wrote this on my laptop, and it does not let me proofread easily.
Monday, July 6, 2015
41 Years of Lessons
Today, I celebrate 41 years of marriage to Mr. Lincoln. How in the world the time has flown so quickly is beyond me. We are both quite different people now than we were then. Many lessons have been learned. We have weathered 3 miscarriages, the deaths of both our fathers, job loss,estrangement from extended family, financial strains, the typical and not so typical struggles of raising children, deaths of many other relatives including two of my four siblings, not to mention the day in and day out tedium of life. Most of those days have been rallying together rather than not, but certainly there have been days when throwing in the towel sounded quite enticing. I will say right here, that Mr. L is a better husband than I am a wife. He has a much more ready servant heart than I. Please, don't comment to the contrary; I know of that which I speak. So, I have been thinking of lessons I have learned and am still learning. It is a list for my particular life; it may be totally inappropriate for you. It is neither exhaustive nor accomplished.
1. There is no THING that is worth making one's spouse feel inadequate - no house, no car, no new dress, no cooked meal, no clean carpet - NOTHING!!
2. Nagging is a total and complete waste of time, especially if one is married to a Switzer. Nag, and the exact opposite of what you desire will be accomplished. We will not do that which we really want to do if someone is nagging us.
3. If you need something, ASK! Seriously, I could be walking in the house with a refrigerator on my back and if Mr. L inquires as to my need for help, and I, in my martyrdom reply "I'm fine," I can be assured that I will be carrying the refrigerator the rest of the way. This makes perfect sense to me. I know women who feel they should not have to ask for help, but, in my family you ask.
4. The response to "nevermind" is always "okay." Always! The response to "nothing" is always "okay". Always! It should be. We are all adults here.
5. Never say, "surprise me" when asked what sort of treat you want at a filling station rest stop. You will get pink coconut snow balls. Who eats those things?
6. Automatically assume stupidity over ill-intent, but never ever call your spouse stupid.
7. Husbands, when in doubt, always buy a size smaller rather than a size larger. Wives, if he blows it, see number 6.
8. Mr. L enjoys a good rant from me as long as he is not the object, which he never is.
9. Apologize, quickly and often. Last week I snapped at Mr. L. It was purely a function of stress for which he had no responsibility. He did not deserve it. He knew he did not deserve it but he let me come to that on my own. I apologized, and truly, if he is reading this, he is wondering to what I refer, which leads me to number 10:
10. Cultivate a very short memory about lots of things.
11. When you ask an opinion and it is not the one you want, accept it rather than try to change it. That is insulting, and, again, around here, it is counter-productive.
12. If it won't matter in 5 years, it doesn't matter now.
13. Be reliable. Be on time. Do what you say you are going to do. When you don't, your unintended message is " you don't matter."
14. Have shared interests, but have friends and interests of your own. Spending every moment
together is exhausting. Everyone needs time away, and time alone.
15. If it works for your marriage and you are both content with it, outside opinions are superfluous.
16. Think before you speak. In 41 years I have said many bone-headed, insensitive, unaware
things. Usually, Mr. L let's me figure it out on my own. With all the practice I have had, I am getting better at recognizing it, but when I fail, he will tell me.
17. Laugh, laugh, and laugh some more. That is part of the beauty of a long marriage-shared jokes, shared funny experiences.
18. Do not fall into the trap of answering the question, "where do you want to go eat?"
19. After a period of time, grant freedom from attending high school reunion events, otherwise, someone might talk about Naked Wednesdays.
20. If your spouse has weird ideas like running 60 miles on his 60th birthday or planting a door in the front yard, encourage them and cheer them on.
21. Have the good sense to marry a truly lovely, sweet man who loves God and family; a man of integrity, selflessness, humility, and humor. That is what I did.
Happy 41st Anniversary to Mr. L. and me.
Blessings
1. There is no THING that is worth making one's spouse feel inadequate - no house, no car, no new dress, no cooked meal, no clean carpet - NOTHING!!
2. Nagging is a total and complete waste of time, especially if one is married to a Switzer. Nag, and the exact opposite of what you desire will be accomplished. We will not do that which we really want to do if someone is nagging us.
3. If you need something, ASK! Seriously, I could be walking in the house with a refrigerator on my back and if Mr. L inquires as to my need for help, and I, in my martyrdom reply "I'm fine," I can be assured that I will be carrying the refrigerator the rest of the way. This makes perfect sense to me. I know women who feel they should not have to ask for help, but, in my family you ask.
4. The response to "nevermind" is always "okay." Always! The response to "nothing" is always "okay". Always! It should be. We are all adults here.
5. Never say, "surprise me" when asked what sort of treat you want at a filling station rest stop. You will get pink coconut snow balls. Who eats those things?
6. Automatically assume stupidity over ill-intent, but never ever call your spouse stupid.
7. Husbands, when in doubt, always buy a size smaller rather than a size larger. Wives, if he blows it, see number 6.
8. Mr. L enjoys a good rant from me as long as he is not the object, which he never is.
9. Apologize, quickly and often. Last week I snapped at Mr. L. It was purely a function of stress for which he had no responsibility. He did not deserve it. He knew he did not deserve it but he let me come to that on my own. I apologized, and truly, if he is reading this, he is wondering to what I refer, which leads me to number 10:
10. Cultivate a very short memory about lots of things.
11. When you ask an opinion and it is not the one you want, accept it rather than try to change it. That is insulting, and, again, around here, it is counter-productive.
12. If it won't matter in 5 years, it doesn't matter now.
13. Be reliable. Be on time. Do what you say you are going to do. When you don't, your unintended message is " you don't matter."
14. Have shared interests, but have friends and interests of your own. Spending every moment
together is exhausting. Everyone needs time away, and time alone.
15. If it works for your marriage and you are both content with it, outside opinions are superfluous.
16. Think before you speak. In 41 years I have said many bone-headed, insensitive, unaware
things. Usually, Mr. L let's me figure it out on my own. With all the practice I have had, I am getting better at recognizing it, but when I fail, he will tell me.
17. Laugh, laugh, and laugh some more. That is part of the beauty of a long marriage-shared jokes, shared funny experiences.
18. Do not fall into the trap of answering the question, "where do you want to go eat?"
19. After a period of time, grant freedom from attending high school reunion events, otherwise, someone might talk about Naked Wednesdays.
20. If your spouse has weird ideas like running 60 miles on his 60th birthday or planting a door in the front yard, encourage them and cheer them on.
21. Have the good sense to marry a truly lovely, sweet man who loves God and family; a man of integrity, selflessness, humility, and humor. That is what I did.
Happy 41st Anniversary to Mr. L. and me.
Blessings
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