MY VALENTINE

This week I found a humorous spiritual autobiography I wrote several decades ago when Gary and I had been married a little over a year. Re-reading the stories made me laugh sometimes and sometimes made me cry.

Gary Barkman is my third husband. I was his third wife and we both were afraid to ruin our friendship by getting married. But that was 27 years ago next month and we’re not worried anymore.

I used to think that the only differences between men and women were physical ones. Boy was I wrong! Gary was greatly relieved when he took a course that taught us some basic differences. He attributes to that course the fact that he is my last husband instead of just the present one. The first breakthrough we had was that “men think in headlines and women think in fine print.”

Think about it:
Her: How was your day?
Him: Fine.
Her: What did you do?
Him: Work.
Her: What did you have for lunch?
Him: Food.
Her: What kind of food?
Him: A sandwich.

If the occasion arose the other way around:
Him: How was your day?
Her: Great! Helen and I are becoming good friends. You know, she’s the one at the office who (explanation of Helen). And then I met Anne for lunch. We went to the Chinese restaurant and I had (description of food). And I did twice as much work as this time last month; I think I’m really catching on to this new job (explanation of new job as opposed to old job.)

But that occasion would probably never arise – well, the monologue by her will most likely be given but not the question, because he can tell by looking that her day was ‘fine’ and that’s all that is important.

I have made several observations about men over the years and still believe most of what I wrote 25 years ago – at least for my generation of males.

Men assume that drink carrying (coffee, tea, cola, etc) is a favorite pastime of wives.
When they stay home alone with their children it is babysitting.
When they run the vacuum cleaner, it is ‘helping’ the female.
When they cook a meal it is on Valentine’s Day.
They like to buy presents for females.
They like to look at females.
They fear females are a superior race and spend a lot of energy pretending that fear does not exist.

There is something I have not figured out about being female.

Him: Do we have anything to drink?
Me: (determined not to move out of my chair) Yes.
Him: What?
Me: (gripping the edges of my chair) Pepsi, tea…
Him: No coffee made?
Me: No. (digging my heels into the floor. )
Heavy silence permeates the room for several minutes.
Me: (feeling like a traitor to my very self) Would you like me to make some coffee?
Him: If you want.

I don’t want. But the invisible rope drags me into the kitchen. What is it? Cultural conditioning? Hormones? Lack of iron? When I hand him the cup, he says “Thank you, Sweetheart.” And I feel some strange sort of satisfaction inside. Is it just me or part of the mystery of femaleness?

I appreciate Gary because I never had to earn his approval by being a good housekeeper or having a perfect figure. One morning during a period when I didn’t work outside the home and he worked hard everyday, I noticed him picking up a pair of dirty socks and putting them on. When I asked why, he looked uncomfortable and confessed he hadn’t had any clean ones for three days.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” I asked with tears of remorse.
“I know you had more important things to think about.”
How can you respond to a husband like that except to love washing his socks?

When he was a volunteer fireman, he came home one day after he and another of the crew held phone duty. He relayed their discussion about God. At the end of the conversation, the man said, “You sound like you’ve got it all together.” Gary answered, “No, when you think you’ve got it all together, you’re in trouble. You’ve got to stay like a little child, always ready to learn something new.”

That’s about as ‘all together’ as most of us humans ever get.

Gary and I had some pretty rough times in our relationship from marriage year 3 until marriage year 23 when he got on his knees and asked me to marry him again on our 25th wedding anniversary in 2007. I said “Yes.” And for two years he courted me and restored the love and respect I started out with.

I’m more proud of my husband than ever. Since his paralysis over a year ago, he has had a wonderful positive attitude, determined to find things to joke about, and made sure everybody knows “God didn’t cause this; the devil did. But one way or another God is going to get some glory out of it!”
I just thought he was great 27 years ago. Now he is my hero.

I dedicated that never published autobiography “to my husband because - of all the mistakes I’ve made in life, marrying you was not one of them.” How true that was!

On our first anniversary Gary, who mostly communicated in grunts, pointed fingers, and held out coffee cups wrote me a letter. In it he told me what our year of marriage had taught him about love.

"Love is not a state of mind. Love is giving of yourself.
Love is caring. Love is letting the other person speak when you want to talk. Love is helping someone learn how to love again. Love is giving, a giving that comes from the heart. It is the opening of the heart to someone and leaving yourself wide open to them. Love is a beautiful, precious, and wonderful Gift."


Happy Valentine’s Day!
May God bless us all with the gift of His Love that allows us to love others.