Yesterday I wrote a post about the things I have learned from my mother. Today I would like to write about another mother: my wife, the mother of my son.
I love my wife. I really do. I love her more than I love anything else. She is my best friend, my favorite person, the one I long to come to at night to share my thoughts and my time with. As I was looking for the picture I used with yesterday’s post, I was reading through my wife’s blog again, where she has posted a lot of the pictures she has taken of our son. I was once again impressed with how wonderful she is. I don’t know what it was that first attracted me to her, but I know why I fell in love with her: She is someone I am comfortable with. I have always been a socially awkward person, never really relishing social situations. I didn’t date much in high school, I just had several good friends who were girls, and we did things together. My wife is the only woman I have ever really dated. I’m glad it worked out! But, with her I found a friend, someone who enjoys the same things I do, someone who is willing to put up with my many faults and quirks. She is so patient with me as I go into “teacher mode” and start explaining things to her, things that she probably already understands and that I have probably already explained several times. She appreciates and supports my love of German and how nerdy I get when I talk about Germany or Linguistics, or even theater and Shakespeare, two other obsessions of mine.
I remember when I first knew that I was going to marry her and spend the rest of eternity with her. I don’t know if I’ve ever told her this story. We had been dating for several months and I decided to take a road trip up to Seattle to visit my brother and some old friends. She mentioned that she had never been to Seattle, so I asked if she wanted to come along. We spent a week in Seattle, staying with my brother, and seeing all of the cool things Seattle has to offer, the Space Needle, EMP, Pike Place Market, etc. It was fun. The last day of the trip, we decided to go to the Seattle Temple. This was the temple I grew up loving, it is only 15 minutes from the house I grew up in, and is located right next to the Stake Center I attended. We visited the temple often. As we were sitting in the temple and I saw this beautiful young woman, dressed all in spotless white, as all who enter the temple are, I knew that she was the woman I was to marry. I had had an experience a few years before in the temple in Provo, while I was going through the MTC, where I happened to notice a pretty girl in her white temple dress and the thought came to me, “You will know the woman you are to marry when you see her in the temple.” So, when we were in the Seattle Temple and I saw how amazingly beautiful she was, that’s when I knew that she was the woman I would marry. Now, I just had to ask.
And I couldn’t just ask — no, I had to ask in a special way! We were only about a month before her birthday, so, knowing that I would still need to get a ring and a few other things organized, I decided that I would propose on her birthday. The funny thing is that, during our long drive back to Utah from Seattle, she actually asked me if I were thinking about marriage and where I thought our relationship was going. Not wanting to spoil the surprise, I kinda fibbed and told her I hadn’t really thought about, but that we should just see how things go. I guess she was pleasantly surprised on her birthday when I proposed! (You can read her account of this event on her blog)
As much as I love my wife, though, sometimes I find it very difficult to talk or write about just how I feel about her. It’s strange, really. In high school, when I was much younger and sillier, I wrote a lot of poetry. I loved playing around with rhymes and verses, and I wrote quite a few cheesy, silly love poems about the girl or girls I was currently interested in. I realize that I have not written any such poem for my wife. Obviously, I love her so much more than the simple infatuation I felt in high school, but why do I now not find the ability to express myself as well as I would like? As I have pondered this I have thought that it is precisely because I feel so much stronger about this love and this relationship that I do not want to lessen it by applying some trite or worn-out phrase to it. My high school relationships were exactly the type of silly, frivolous affairs that lent themselves to frivolous, silly poetry, but when I sit down to write about my wife, I want to capture exactly how she makes me feel, and I am afraid of not being able to do justice to the feelings I have.
I will say this again, and again: I love my wife. She makes me a better man, husband, and father everyday. I love her confidence in me, her trust in my ability to love and provide, her faith in my Priesthood, and her support in maintaining the spirituality of our home when I must be away at work. I know she works hard all day taking care of our son and making our home a wonderful place that I feel welcome coming home to each night. Truly the scripture says, “neither is the man without the woman, neither the woman without the man, in the Lord” (1 Corinthians 11:11). I would not be half of who I am without my wife, nor without the Lord. On this Mother’s day I am glad that I have her, that I can help her become the mother she is meant to be. I am thankful that she has chosen to spend her life with me, despite all of my shortcomings, and I pray that she continue to forgive me as I strive to be the best husband I can for her. Thank you for everything. I love you, always.