I stood at the grocery store checkout line the other day with a few items, none of which was out of the ordinary. Directly next to the keypad was a small sampling of greeting cards, and I realized in a flash that I needed one.
You see, my sweet husband is about to have a milestone birthday.
Low-maintenance Don is delighted that I have not planned anything special for this landmark life event: no surprise parties, no out-of-town trips where the kids show up unexpectedly, no day-long scavenger-hunts, and no expensive presents. It will just be a simple gathering of our adult children and their partners, hanging out at our house watching the Seattle Seahawks game.
Planning an uncomplicated celebration for such a significant event is not like me, but I am a bit off my game right now. I have been barraged with social functions large and small (weddings, birthdays, and out of town travel) and incredibly involved in organizing upcoming vacations. My work schedule has been invigorating to the point of demanding. Add to the mix some family relationship challenges, minor health issues, and a beloved pooch undergoing chemotherapy, and I am in a phase where deciding when to wash my hair seems complex.
Don is the complete opposite; he is unperturbed to the point of placid and unflappable to the point of unemotional. His personality explains how he can drive to his office late at night, decades ago, while I am in labor with our first child, leaving me outside in the car without a cellphone. But on the plus side, it also means that something earthshattering to me merely gives him pause. Though there are many remarkable attributes about my husband that I could extol – intelligence, wit, work ethic, devotion, kindness, humility, and fearlessness – the fact that I can count on his constant calm is what I adore about him.
My hyperactive – and reactive – personality mostly amuses my husband. He does not care when I melt down and decide we must immediately sell our house or when I tell him that I am pulling the trigger on a five-figure extravagance; he merely blinks or shrugs his shoulders. Though to be fair, there have been times when he looks at me afterwards and asks me to confirm what he just heard. He processes my pronouncements briefly before returning his gaze to the sporting event on television or inspecting the latest batch of quarters in his coin collection. Some might interpret his actions as diffidence or disinterest, but I know Don better than that. He accepts my unpredictable nature with steadfast love.
I was immediately drawn to one greeting card in the shopping line, even though it was not a birthday card. I was taken by its verbiage, struck by its sentiment. I grabbed it quickly and added it to my purchases before the cashier finished scanning them. The card simply said:
The best is yet to come.
Happy birthday, Don. The fact that I found you and kept you, someone who never asks me how long something will take, what it will cost, and why I act this way, is one of the greatest, happiest mysteries of my life.