In Praise of J

I've written about my wife several times before on this blog in decorative and flattering language. I've mentioned her hundreds of times anecdotally, usually at the expense of her dignity. I've written about how well I understand her and how little I understand her, about our joys and our griefs. And having written about her hundreds of times, I find I still have more to say in her praise, and not just a little more.

She is a person of almost endless patience. I can't ever remember her losing her temper with one of the boys. She understands how to wait for something good and how to wait through a bad situation without listing out an even, moderate spirit.

She's never known a violent or a cruel instinct. She'd always prefer to head off an argument or a conflict before it begins.

She knows what she doesn't know. If she needs help picking out clothes or curtains, she'll ask. She won't pretend to know what she's doing out of some silly sense of pride.

She's happy to give credit away to other people as a musician, a teacher, and a homemaker.

She is loyal and faithful to the marrow of her soul. Once she's entered into a friendship she'll never cast the other off. She has the same fierce fidelity as a wife to her husband that she gives to her sons as a mother.

She has a sense of reverence and respect. She would never provoke an old codger in church for the game of it, she would never flirt with the boundary of what might not be respectable to wear, and she's always circumspect around people with whom she might disagree.

But she isn't a pushover. She weighs her words very carefully before she says them, and then she'll say the truth, even if it's hard to say or won't be taken well. When she does speak her voice in an argument, she doesn't stake out a piece of rhetorical property and entrench, she looks for reconciliation.

She possesses genuine physical and mental fortitude. She'll hold a writhing and screaming infant until her back and her feet ache, and once the child is in bed she'll bend over for another half hour picking up toys from the toddler.

But she also knows how to look after her own body. She knows when she needs to rest, and when resting for an hour is more important to everyone's well-being than having a perfectly manicured house.

She has a healthy fear of sloth. She'll enjoy keeping up with facebook or with a tv show for a half hour, but then she'll make herself do something else, and she'll enjoy whatever project she starts.

She exemplifies restraint. She never pours the extra glass of wine, eats the unnecessary extra portion, stays up the extra hour, or spends the extra $20.

She is profoundly empathetic to those she loves. If you've ever told her about some grief or joy of your own, she has genuinely felt it with you.

She is wise. In a world of fools and fool's traps, I can't ever remember her being ensnared by an advertisement, an idle dream, a fad diet, a gadget, a piece of quack preaching, or any other such nonsense.

She takes care of her body. She wants to move and to exercise and to eat real nourishment.

In many ways, she realized comparatively late that she was beautiful. She didn't spend the hours of her girlhood preening in front of a mirror, but as an adult woman discovered herself in dresses and boots and beauty. I think because of this she enjoys being beautiful with an almost thankful spirit, and is humble about it.

From seemingly out of nowhere, she is astonishingly graceful. She never took dance, and she grew up among Mennonites in Southern Pennsylvania. When she does yoga it looks like ballet. She plies her body like someone expertly playing a string instrument--it just looks natural.

She gives grace freely. If she has to discipline James she gets him up afterwards and starts him over again with complete forgiveness. If we've disagreed about something, she won't hold it against me once we've worked it out.

She wants to do more than the least amount in every part of our marriage. With our home, at our table, in our bed, in our conversation it is unlikely on any given day that she'll have put in the lowest required fare and gone on once she's finished to something else more interesting.

She listens when her parents speak. She listens when I speak, although I wouldn't put myself in any kind of patriarchal authority over her. The issue of power and gender has never come up with us because she's always done the "submitting to one another" part before it could be an issue.

She's really good at what she does professionally. And the part that she hadn't ever prepared before a few years ago--public singing--has become a real strength for her after work and study at it.

She makes good money at what she does. We couldn't balance the household budget without her portion.

She's beautiful in a dress going to a wedding, she's beautiful in a nice top and jeans and boots going out to work, and she's beautiful coming down the stairs in the morning in my old sweater and a pair of vivid orange pajama pants and slippers. I still can't wait to hear the creak of the steps, to turn around, and to see her for the first time this morning. Seven years into marriage, I still think she's extraordinary in most every way.