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In our happy household, there is one of each kind. My husband always finishes his sentences. He also balances his checkbook, folds his t-shirts before stacking them neatly in the drawer, and backs into his parking space so the car will be ready to pull out in the morning.
Me? I flit from one idea to the next, dump my clean laundry into the drawer, and long ago relegated the household budgeting to the one who is much better evolved to handle the unique challenges of addition and subtraction. I run around the house in the morning, deciding what to wear, and searching for my phone and keys and purse. Every morning, the ritual is the same: rush to do what could have been done the evening before.
It’s been said that God never puts two spoons together. If I and the dear man with whom I share my life were exactly alike, one of us would be unnecessary. But in our case, there’s no question: necessary, we are! Instead of fitting neatly side by side like spoons in a drawer, we’re more like rocks in a rock tumbler—crashing and bumping and chipping away at one another’s idiosyncracies until we both take on the smooth sheen of the mature Christian.
I am astounded by anyone who will spend even an hour comparing prices on a set of golf clubs; but to do so for an hour a night, every night for weeks on end, without yet deciding—well, it’s just incomprehensible. But then again, my habit of impulse buying means that I often stand in lines returning unwanted items or, worse yet, just give them away when the store’s return policy requires a decision within 30 days and I’ve lost the stupid receipt anyway.
The two-parent, two-style family has some distinct advantages over homes led by ostensibly better matched couples. Children can benefit from living in an environment where there are two loving parents, but where one is a stern but loving disciplinarian, and one a hugger; one a sports lover and the other a music aficionado; one a saver, and one who knows that the time to act is NOW.
Like many long married couples, we’ve faced our share of challenges—especially in the early years, when we each nurtured the illusion that the other would change. Over time, though, our sharp edges have been bumped and broken into submission. On many a day, I marvel at my dear husband’s still unexpected quirks, and thank God for using this odd but good man to shape my soul and help to ready me for eternity.