Where it all began

So there I was, minding my own business.....
I was 15 years old, freshman in high school, in a weight lifting class in the the gym. Just finding my way around. Meeting new people. Getting used to high school. Then she walked in.
The first time I saw her, I was completely stunned. She was beautiful. She was completely different from every other girl at school. She had my full attention. Really. I don't remember anything else that day. Just her. No. I didn't talk to her. The thought almost made me throw up. Actually, I don't think I ever spoke a word to her in school. She was out of my league. I was the goofy pothead kid. The clown, the grease monkey, the long haired freak. It was 1986 and I was a weird kid even during that era. She was perfect. At least in my mind, where she spent a lot of time.
The first time I remember speaking to her was a strange day. My dad, who had never done anything like this....ever, came home and made me get in the car. "You have to see this girl." That's all I got out him for the 10 minute ride. He had stopped at a little drug store where she was working. He was blown away by her whole presence. So he made me go in and buy something just to meet her. We talked for a few seconds, nothing earth shattering. That was it. He was a little disappointed that we weren't planning the wedding while I was in there. I told him, she went to my school and I know who she is. That was the end of it.
A year or so later, her brother became one of my best friends. Hadn't really thought about her much by then, she was still way out of my league. We got a job together at a nursery and landscape company. One day, the owners mother threw a fit at us for no good reason and fired us. We were stranded because we had been dropped off. He called his mom, then his sister, left messages but nobody answered. So we began the eight or nine mile walk back to town. Less than a mile from work, his parents pulled up. Seconds later, so did his sister. His parents were in a single cab truck that we weren't both going to fit into, so he told me to just ride with her. Dang. They drove off and I got into her little car. I was considering throwing up again. She was so polite, and friendly and hot. I was stressing out so bad I made her let me out three miles from home. I had to get out of that car. I couldn't handle sitting that close to the most beautiful girl I had ever spoken to. Seriously. Panic. She thought there was something wrong with me, and there was. That was a long slow walk home.
Maybe another year went by, I was now 18 and had just ended a fairly serious relationship that I just didn't know what to do with. Me and her brother just ran wild for a while. We did the standard list of stupid stuff and just hung out. One day, he suggests we go see his sister, who had her own place. That was pretty much the last time it was just me and him.
She was a blast to hang out with. I loved every minute with her. She was fun and tough and quickly became my absolute best friend. I wanted to be with her every day. When I finally got the nerve to ask her out for a real date, she said yes and I panicked again. Didn't go back for a week or so. Once I did, her weird friends started making up stories to get rid of me. But, I finally got that date, kinda. Me and her brother went to see her one night and she was leaving to go to a party with her weird friends. I offered to drive her, since I had a van. We pulled into this yard full of weirdos and got out. She started talking to everyone and just wandered off from us. I tried talking to some folks, but the freakometer was up pretty high. I didn't want to be there, I wanted to be with here. So I stole her purse from inside and threw it in the back of the van. When she walked back out, we climbed in and cranked it up. I yelled to her and said we were leaving. When she got close, I asked if she wanted her purse. "Yes, where is it?" I told her it was in the back. When she climbed in to get it, I dropped the clutch and took off. Yep. Our first date was a kidnapping.
A few weeks later, we were having a going away party for a friend at my house. I got frustrated and left. Walked up the street to a park and sat down. I prayed for the first time in years. "God, if there is a person who is right for me, you need to put them in front of me because I don't know what to do." What I didn't know was that she was at my house right then looking for me. Not 10 seconds after that little prayer, I saw her walking across the park. The rest is history.
Actually, the rest is the subject of this blog. Somewhere along the way, I forgot how precious she was. I forgot how miraculous our relationship was. I forgot how amazing and wonderful she was. She became just a wife to me. I neglected and abused her. But, 20 years later, we got back on track. After almost losing her, we are better than ever now. Thank God.
I am a blessed man. We have four amazing kids. We are in a good place. Life is becoming almost surreal some days. Not perfect yet, but amazing. I am writing this log to encourage men to become better. To stop neglecting and abusing that amazing woman you committed your life to. Take some time this week to remember how you met. Write it out. Think about it. If you make the effort to show her that she is still as precious today as she was then, it can all start to change. She needs it and so do you.

Dog Farts

Yes. Seriously. Let's have a deep meaningful post about dog farts. Here we go.
I have an 85 pound chubalub German shepherd that is getting up there in the dog years. I also have kids. It has been a running joke in the house, whenever someone farts, we blame the dog. Usually it's with a surprised outburst of her name, followed by relentless complaining. The dog has been trained to get up and leave the room whenever she hears a sound that even resembles a fart. ( nothing but the classy material here. ) She's old and fat now. So her getting up and leaving includes grunts and moaning that sounds like complaining. Funny stuff. Well, now the joke is on us. Now it really is her. She does it constantly. Nasty ones. Creepy sounding ones. Everyone get up and leave when she gets up for no apparent reason. It's awful. Sounds like a wet balloon deflating the last of the air.
My point? She got trained to respond to our reactions. Even though we were just playing around, she got trained to get up and leave whenever the air got thick. She somehow understood we were picking on her and now it's a regular reaction. We do the same thing. We have been trained our whole lives to respond certain ways to certain scenarios. We have developed a lot of pointless, maybe harmful, habits because of how people around us have responded. We have trained ourselves to do stuff that we honestly can't explain. .
During our marriage counseling, I learned that a high percentage of men can't hear anything corrective from a female. We have trained ourselves to cut her off, ignore her, imagine she is saying something else or just blocking her out completely. I did it. I had no idea I was doing it. I was guilty of letting my brain click over to autopilot whenever my wife tried to talk to me. I had developed a habit with no logical explanation.
There's other stuff, too. Arguing. I had developed a talent for arguing about everything. Even stuff that didn't matter. Just arguing for the sake of it. Stalling. She asked me to do things and I would intentionally put it off. At least for a few minutes. Maybe it was a control issue. Even stuff that I could have done right then with no extra effort. It was always, "give me a minute" or "sure" or "as soon as I get done with this." Most of the time I ended up not even doing it. Jerk. Stepping over things. Stuff on the floor, step over it and leave it for her. Spill something, leave it for her. Things that obviously need to be done, act like I didn't see it. Light bulbs burned out, clothes on the floor, trash can full, newspapers all over the driveway, empty milk jug in the fridge, dishes piled up in the sink, etc. etc. etc. Like every minute of my life was more important that hers. Like the extra 3 seconds it took to grab the clothes off the floor was a waste of my life. Sure, I can cram the trash down an inch and make it the next person's problem. No, I didn't notice any of that. Yeah. Jerk. Don't even mention that empty toilet paper roll. Most guys refuse to pull that empty tube off and put the new roll on. Why? Why do we train ourselves to avoid doing things when it takes almost the same effort to do it? We apparently don't understand the benefits of having our wives know that they are loved and respected by every little action. Most guys couldn't care less if they are using the toilet paper roll off the back of the toilet or off the holder. Doesn't matter to us. Most of us would be perfectly content to live out of the dryer and never hang or fold anything. We will gladly stand in front of an open refrigerator and eat dinner without using dishes. We are fine with just pulling dishes out of the dishwasher as we need them. All that stuff honestly makes sense to us. But not our wives. Why? They generally like order and structure. They like having things in their place. ( yes, there are always exceptions. ) They like for their home to be a sanctuary where there is peace. We see it as a place to drink beer and watch tv when we aren't working. Yep.
Guys, we need to change some of these habits. We need to put a little effort into seeing things from their perspective and figuring out what makes their world a happy place. Neglecting them and the things that matter to them creates these bad habits. Just like 85 pound chubalub dog farts, it's stuff we are better off without. Step up. Do right.

Responsibilities and benefits

Going to attempt to make this short and simple. Most of us guys have pretty short attention spans anyway.
Here's the scenario. I have grass in my yard. It look better short, the neighbors appreciate it being short and the little man from the city who gives out fines likes it short. So what the heck did I do? I bought a lawn mower. I felt that to have a need meant I should go find the solution. Grass need cutting. I need a mower. Simple enough. But, there's stuff that mower needs if I intend to get more than one season out of it. Gas. The stupid thing needs gas. Even though I just put gas in it, it needs more. And oil. If that dipstick isn't showing clean oil at the right level, I don't have a mower very long. Blades. It had blades. They need to be sharpened. They have to be tight. They have to be the right size and type for my mower. If I mow lots of rocks and pine cones and random trash, they need to be checked. Wheels. Let one fall off and see how much fun mowing is. Gotta take care of the wheels. What else? Fuel lines and filters, oil changes, maybe a battery, muffler and a few dozen random bolts that shake loose. Yes, there's a point. And yes, I am about to compare our wives to mowers.
We searched for a bride because we had needs. We wanted to be with someone. We wanted a companion, lover, baby maker, friend and someone to grow old with. Most women are very willing to step into those roles for the right guy. The guy who is willing to meet their needs as well. But very often, like my last post covered, we don't. We assume the whole marriage purpose was to meet our needs. Once her needs show up, there's a problem.
Like the story I heard of the old farmer sitting on the porch while his phone kept ringing. When his neighbor finally walked over and asked him why he wouldn't answer, he said... "I put that thing in for my convenience. I'll get up and use it when I need something." Pure stubborn selfishness.
Well guys, guess what happens when you go too long ignoring the needs of your lawn mower? It has to be replaced or starts costing you time and money to fix it. Just like ignoring the needs of your wife. Eventually you don't have one or you have a lot of serious issues to fix. Counseling, books, therapy, prescriptions, etc. all get expensive once someone is pushed too far. Yeah, I would have probably assumed this was for someone else, too. If I had found this before the hammer fell in my house.
I heard another great story that relates. As it was told to me...
A man went to a railroad auction, thinking a railroad freight car would make a good workshop in his property. They were auctioning off sealed cars that has lost the shipping records. Didn't know what was inside. The man finally got one, went for less than $1500, as I was told. After he paid for it they cut the locks. Inside were two 1955 Chevy Belair two door hard tops. Neither had more than 10 miles on it. All his. Perfectly preserved, all original. Virtually priceless.
Cool story. So what? Well. Anyone with enough time, money, persustence can pull any car out of a junkyard and restore it to perfection. Or. You can start with a good thing and preserve it by caring for it and treating it right. Take care of your marriage by caring for your wife.
I am that guy that drove the wheels off. Not really maintaining anything. Trying to fix only the big problems and ignoring the small daily needs. Almost destroyed my family. I was a jackass. Still recovering. Long way left to go. But I found the road home. On the way. Following people who have already made the trip and love it. ( Joel and Kathy )
So. Before someone tells me that mowers and cars are different because they come with manuals, let me add something. That bride of your has a manual. She teaches from it daily. Every minute you spend listening to her gives you a daily lesson from that manual. She is telling you what she likes. What she needs and wants. What makes her happy and sad. What she wants out of life. What she wants you to do more, and less. Listen. Read the manual.