Hello,
Today, one month ago, we celebrated thirty years of marriage. Over the past month, our vows came to mind, and I mulled them over. It would seem we have done reasonably well in achieving the lofty goals of our vows. Love is a definite yes; we love each other and try to show it daily. Honor was a little less effective over the years, but for the most part, we show honor to each other in everything we do. We managed through the worst while celebrating, the better. Through sickness, we cleaned up after each other and enjoyed our healthy days immensely. We started relatively poor as we struggled through the last year of college and became wealthy enough to retire together. The fidelity of our marriage is a hallmark forever.
However, there are several parts of the vows my wife heard that I didn’t. The first that comes to mind is removing all things that creep and crawl through the house. On our first warm spring day together, a scream, “Spider,” permeated the apartment, scaring me from my chair. The sheer terror etched in this warning gave me the idea of a six-foot high with two-foot fangs behemoth of a spider sucking the life out of my bride. I reached for the driver out of my golf bag. “Okay,” I told myself, “it can’t be that big.” A paper towel should be sufficient for an early spring spider.
Entering the bedroom, she pointed at the wall, almost crying, “There.”
I could not see the object of her near-death experience and followed her point. The itsy-bitsy spider of childhood song is on the far wall, about halfway up. This killer of children and wives was no bigger than a pinhead. Using the tip of my forefinger, I vanquished the foe with a mighty tap that was no harder than trying to gain someone’s attention in a noisy bar. She hailed me as her hero for saving her from the jaws of the villainous pest.
My wife gave birth to a beautiful daughter who quickly became a daddy’s girl. The dear ole dad read to her every night, gave her baths, and comforted her in troubling times. Around five years old, I taught her how to kill spiders. Something happened before she turned ten, and she was now becoming her mother. This included a deep fear of bugs, flies, and especially spiders. I am now the knight in shining armor protecting both women in the house from any woman-eating spiders that might enter it.
I don’t remember the preacher stating it was my job, but over the years, my wife and my friends' wives confirmed that killing spiders in the house was part of the vows the day I said, “I do” to my wife.
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God bless,
Danny Mac
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