I'M SO IN LOVE

I'm so in love. Though we've been married for years, there's a new sweet bond between us. My husband tells me umpteen times a day, "I love you, Kristy." Or, "You're such a good wife, Kristy." He reaches for my hand and squeezes it.

"Behold how good, and oh, how pleasant, it is for the brethren to dwell together in unity," the psalmist said. "Behold how good, and oh, how pleasant it is for married couples to dwell together in unity," is my paraphrase. The Bible says, "One can put a thousand to flight, and two, ten thousand." In other words, there's strength in the power of agreement.

I'm not sure why we're experiencing this newfound joy in marriage. Us? Who've taught Joy in Marriage seminars to numerous churches? Huh? You'd think we, of all people, would have joy in marriage. Well, of course we did. At times. But now, it's all the time.

And I know the reason.

God.

There's no other way to explain it.

My husband, who's always been a good husband, who's worked hard to make a living, who's been faithful and supportive, who's been a good father, who's been a caring pastor, yada, yada, yada, is…well, he's downright solicitous of me.

Is that the word I'm looking for?

Yes. Webster's says solicitous means "full of desire; eager."

Solicitude means "attentive care."

He's almost…doting?

Well, not quite. But almost.

Take last Saturday. I'd been asking him for a couple of months to move our wall unit down a couple of feet. That would make it closer to the sofa for better TV viewing, and also give some space to the right of it, beside the fireplace, for a chair and ottoman. We should've done it when we moved in a year-and-a-half ago, but we just didn't. I'd been saying, "Why don't you call Gary and ask him to help you? He won't mind."

So Saturday morning, we get up and he says he's going to Home Depot to buy those slider things you put under furniture to move it. He says we can do it, and with those slider things, we won't even have to take the TV or stereo equipment out of the unit.

So he returns with the sliders. But they're the size of fifty cent pieces. I squelch the urge to laugh. I mean, even though the sides of the wall unit are separate pieces, the center piece must weigh a thousand pounds.

But I don't laugh, although I mention that these look awful small. So he pulls the first side piece down the wall, giving him enough room to get between it and the center piece, and like a tsunami wrestler, he lifts and grimaces as I snake between his legs in the tight confines and slide the fifty cent pieces under each corner of one side. Ditto for the other side. Then he tries to slide the unit, and sure enough, just as I expected, it goes nowhere.

"I'll go back to Home Depot and get the right size," he says, as cheerfully as I've ever seen him. So he comes back and this time, he has saucer-sized ones, and I think, Bingo, until I read the words on the front of the package...

For hardwood or tile floors.

And I then look closely at the sliders, and they have a carpet-like surface, and I think, We have hardwood floors, but not where the wall unit is, and carpet will not slide on carpet. So I show him my discovery, and he says we'll try it anyway.

So we go through the same procedure, and sure enough, I was right, though I don't gloat or act proud.

So he says he's going back to get the right ones. I stand amazed in the presence…of this unperturbed, calm, solicitous man in front of me.

He comes back with the right kind (note: third trip). Finally, after lots of tugging, our beautiful dark cherry wall unit is in the right spot in our family room, and I pull the chair and ottoman over to the right side.

And he's happy, and I'm happy, and all is well, and I think we even kiss and joke about the whole thing.

But that's not the end of the story.

A few days later, I say, "I think it needs to go down another six inches."

"You're kidding, right?" he says.

"No. If we pull it down six inches, I can position the chair and ottoman so it won't be jammed up by the fireplace. It'll look much better."

So, what does he say?

"Sure." And he heads for the garage to get the sliders.

So we go through the whole process again, but those silly sliders slide that center piece three more inches than I'd planned, and I mention it, but by this time, we've worked up a sweat, and this is the second time we've moved this thing, and we're ready to get through with this project, and besides three inches is nothing, and we keep on working and get the whole unit in place. I forgot to mention that getting it in place means all the wires are intact behind the pieces, and the side pieces are shoved as close to the center piece as possible and then the whole thing is pushed as close to the wall as possible, and then I have to put the mountain of photo albums and games back inside the bottoms of each piece.

So I pull my chair and ottoman where I want it and then stand in front of the unit and think, Oh, no, it's now too close to the sofa and end table to look good. It looks crowded. Oh, man, those slider things slid it too far. And maybe even more than the three inches I'd thought.

Like maybe four-and-a-half inches.

So I say, "We really need to move it a few inches the other way."

He says, "You're kidding, right?" but it has a slight bite to it this time. He's not cheerful.

So we have a few interchanges, and I realize he's reached his limit, and so, denying my decorating savvy for the peace of my marriage, I give up. Sweetly.

Then he says, "Okay. We'll do it again."

And I jump for joy.

So we go through the whole process again.

The wall unit now looks great. There's plenty of room to the right, beside the fireplace, for the chair and ottoman that's upholstered in a cream-colored fabric over which I draped a new, soft washable aqua throw (interpretation: it's actually usable) over which I hung a striking painting my mother painted in hues of aquas and turquoises over which I hung a picture light which makes the painting look like a Monet, and, I had a middle-of-the-day dinner party yesterday and my guests oohed and ahed over the strikingness of the whole vignette, and…

I just adore my husband!