This one's about my husband, AKA The Kahuna. I frequently pinch myself and wonder what fabulous karmic deed I ever did to deserve to be married to someone so intelligent, kind, thoughtful, and well ... good. (He's Canadian; I think they put "nice" in the water up there.) Plus he is a hunk. Last but not least, The Kahuna is gainfully employed in one of those helping professions frequently glorified by made-for-TV movies on the Oxygen Network. My husband is a winner; a prize; a score of the highest order and - in short ...
I'm a lucky broad.
But sometimes I forget that. You Gentle Readers who happen to be in long-term relationships know what I mean. You can be hitched to a deity and still fall into that complacent place where the fact that he brings his iPhone into bed at night occupies more of your consciousness than his daily working of miracles on behalf of all humanity. Without in any way implying we've been in a marital rut, I do have to confess I have recently not been as appreciative of The Kahuna as I could be, and we have not been syncing as well as we are wont.
Then last night happened.
We both came home from work a little distracted, gave each other the perfunctory peck, and then got right down to the business of switching gears from the office to home - making dinner, starting the laundry, trying to figure out what the dog ate that made her barf right in the middle of the living room. The "Middlest" (14 years ) took the "Littlest" (5) out on our quiet neighborhood street to practice on her two-wheeler. They hadn't been gone five minutes when our son came racing back into the house, pale and visibly upset. Since his sister was right on his heels, also looking worried, I knew she hadn't taken a fall ... but someone else had.
"Mr. P. is lying in his yard, yelling 'Please, somebody help me!" said my son. "What should I do?"
That was when The Kahuna reminded me why I adore him. Calmly telling the kids they had done exactly the right thing, he grabbed his first aid bag and headed over to our 90-year-old neighbor's house. After ascertaining that poor Mr. P.'s injuries were all superficial, Kahuna helped him up, got him settled into his recliner, fetched his dinner, and proceeded to do everything that should be done when an elderly person takes a fall - patched up his scrapes, stayed with him, called his family, chatted and asked questions to ensure he hadn't taken a bump to the head ...
Of course, any decent person would assist someone in Mr. P.'s situation. What my husband did, though, was take care of the immediate necessities with so much grace, respect, and humor that by the end of the evening, when I had tucked Littlest into bed and left the teenagers watching a movie, he and Mr. P. were just hanging out like old friends, talking about World War II, the history of our neighborhood and all kinds of other things.
I know from my experience with ill and elderly parents how important it is for people who need help to maintain their dignity and feeling of independence, even in the most undignified and dependent situations. Last night I watched my husband - the same man I grumped at because he was too tired to go have dinner with friends earlier in the week - treat another human being with all the kindness and genuine care he brings to all of his relationships. It was just a coincidence that Mr. P took a fall last night; that my children happened to be by his house when it happened, and that my husband happened to be home at the right time, that I happened to be in a position to observe.
Coincidental, sure. But later on that night, when I felt once again like the Luckiest Woman in the Universe to be going to sleep next to the Big Kahuna, I was reminded of something written by psychiatrist and author Elisabeth Kubler-Ross (one of my mother's favorites):
"There are no mistakes, no coincidences. All events are blesisngs given to us to learn from."
Whether we want them or not. How wonderful when we can see the blessing as blessing. How wonderful to grasp the blessing and have them walk with us awhile.
This one's about my husband, AKA The Kahuna. I frequently pinch myself and wonder what fabulous karmic deed I ever did to deserve to be married to someone so intelligent, kind, thoughtful, and well ... good. (He's Canadian; I think they put "nice" in the water up there.) Plus he is a hunk. Last but not least, The Kahuna is gainfully employed in one of those helping professions frequently glorified by made-for-TV movies on the Oxygen Network. My husband is a winner; a prize; a score of the highest order and - in short ...
ReplyDeleteI'm a lucky broad.
But sometimes I forget that. You Gentle Readers who happen to be in long-term relationships know what I mean. You can be hitched to a deity and still fall into that complacent place where the fact that he brings his iPhone into bed at night occupies more of your consciousness than his daily working of miracles on behalf of all humanity. Without in any way implying we've been in a marital rut, I do have to confess I have recently not been as appreciative of The Kahuna as I could be, and we have not been syncing as well as we are wont.
Then last night happened.
We both came home from work a little distracted, gave each other the perfunctory peck, and then got right down to the business of switching gears from the office to home - making dinner, starting the laundry, trying to figure out what the dog ate that made her barf right in the middle of the living room. The "Middlest" (14 years ) took the "Littlest" (5) out on our quiet neighborhood street to practice on her two-wheeler. They hadn't been gone five minutes when our son came racing back into the house, pale and visibly upset. Since his sister was right on his heels, also looking worried, I knew she hadn't taken a fall ... but someone else had.
"Mr. P. is lying in his yard, yelling 'Please, somebody help me!" said my son. "What should I do?"
That was when The Kahuna reminded me why I adore him. Calmly telling the kids they had done exactly the right thing, he grabbed his first aid bag and headed over to our 90-year-old neighbor's house. After ascertaining that poor Mr. P.'s injuries were all superficial, Kahuna helped him up, got him settled into his recliner, fetched his dinner, and proceeded to do everything that should be done when an elderly person takes a fall - patched up his scrapes, stayed with him, called his family, chatted and asked questions to ensure he hadn't taken a bump to the head ...
Of course, any decent person would assist someone in Mr. P.'s situation. What my husband did, though, was take care of the immediate necessities with so much grace, respect, and humor that by the end of the evening, when I had tucked Littlest into bed and left the teenagers watching a movie, he and Mr. P. were just hanging out like old friends, talking about World War II, the history of our neighborhood and all kinds of other things.
I know from my experience with ill and elderly parents how important it is for people who need help to maintain their dignity and feeling of independence, even in the most undignified and dependent situations. Last night I watched my husband - the same man I grumped at because he was too tired to go have dinner with friends earlier in the week - treat another human being with all the kindness and genuine care he brings to all of his relationships. It was just a coincidence that Mr. P took a fall last night; that my children happened to be by his house when it happened, and that my husband happened to be home at the right time, that I happened to be in a position to observe.
Coincidental, sure. But later on that night, when I felt once again like the Luckiest Woman in the Universe to be going to sleep next to the Big Kahuna, I was reminded of something written by psychiatrist and author Elisabeth Kubler-Ross (one of my mother's favorites):
"There are no mistakes, no coincidences. All events are blesisngs given to us to learn from."
Amen.
Whether we want them or not. How wonderful when we can see the blessing as blessing. How wonderful to grasp the blessing and have them walk with us awhile.
ReplyDelete