Real Men Drive Kias

Today is my 15th anniversary.  It's hard to believe it's been that long, and yet, I can still remember each year distinctly - the newlywed years, the student years, the residency and test-taking years, the baby-birth years, and now the homeschooling years.  Each era has had lots of ups and plenty of downs.

I could spend many blog posts writing all about my husband, but I can sum it up in one sentence: he drives a Kia.

We sold one of our two cars before moving from Washington to Florida, and we bought the Kia from my father-in-law while passing through Alabama.  It wasn't the car that we had intended to buy, but after discovering some mechanical problems with the planned purchase, it was the one we ended up with.  It was supposed to be mine after I learned to drive a stick, but one brief lesson involving lots of yelling (by me) made it quickly apparent that wasn't going to happen.  So I kept driving my paid-for-and-dearly-loved Mustang, and David started driving the Kia.

Then after the Mustang was totaled when I (pregnant with Nathan) got rear-ended, I drove an Altima, and he drove the Kia.

Now I drive an Explorer, and he still drives the Kia.  Ten years later.

He hates that car.  Loathes it, actually.  And I don't blame him a bit.  It's beat-up, makes strange sounds when it moves, and seems to be held together by some sort of invisible duct-tape.

But he keeps driving it.

Because his family is more important than a car.  Because he wants his wife and children to be in the safer vehicle.  Because he's not willing to put us in an unnecessary financial bind.  (All vehicles purchased since we've been married have been used and bought with cash.)  Because he loves me dearly.

Because David is the kind of man who puts others first.  Fiercely loyal.  A servant-leader.  A husband worthy of great respect.

He hates the sight of that thing.  I think it's beautiful.





This post may be linked up to one or more of the following blog parties.  Check them out! Monday: Menu Plan Monday on I'm an Organizing Junkie Wednesday: Works for Me Wednesday at We are THAT Family Friday: 5 Minute Friday at The Gypsy Mama, Company Girl Coffee at Home Sanctuary, Pieces of Amy Other days: A Wise Woman Builds Her Home

With This Ring, I ... Remember

Several times lately, Megan has asked about the 3 rings that I wear on my left-hand "ring finger," and I love to tell her all about them.  One is my engagement ring, one is my wedding ring, and one is the 50th anniversary ring that my Granddaddy Pearson gave to my Grannie almost 16 years ago.  They represent Megan's heritage on both sides of her family, and we invariably both get to dreaming about the wedding she will hopefully have someday.

They are beautiful rings, and I am truly blessed to have each one of them.  To me, they represent...

...a promise requested.

The diamond in my engagement ring belonged to David's grandmother.  Although not his biological grandfather, the man who bought it loved David and the rest of his family as his very own.  David likes to tell me how his grandfather had to paint lots of houses to make enough money to afford it.  It's a beautiful, bright, round solitaire - just exactly what I would have picked out for myself.

I loved being engaged.  In many ways, it was a pressure-free time (at least until the wedding plans were in full force) - the decision had been made, no more "he loves me, he loves me not" thinking, and none of the coming pressures of married life.  Like the ring itself, it was a time filled with flashy demonstrative gestures and declarations of love.

... a promise made.

My wedding band is barely visible between the other two rings, but it's the most important one.  I think it's appropriate for wedding rings to be simple, ordinary bands of gold.  Yes, it represents a never-ending circle, yada-yada-yada.  But that's not what I mean.

Marriage is about loving each other during the ordinary times.

It's him loving her through dark emotional times, difficult recoveries from childbirth, and children demanding her time and energy.  It's his hugs and pep talks at 2AM.  It's him unclogging the toilet for the 4th time that week (while muttering things about the stupid government and its regulations...).

It's her loving him through surgeries and recoveries, going to school, and dealing with certification tests.  It's her willingness to move anywhere to do what is best for him and their family.  It's her telling him it will all be OK when he's struggling with discouragement.

... a promise kept.

When my Grannie died this past Summer, I had the privilege of choosing first from the 3 diamond rings that she wanted to go to her 3 granddaughters.  The other two are beautiful solitaire rings, but I knew that I wanted this one before I even realized its significance.  The 5 diamonds represent the 5 decades of their marriage (Granddaddy died about a year and a half later), and I sometimes look at it and realize that, after 13 years, we are not quite halfway across that second diamond in our own marriage.

This ring represents the rewards that they reaped from a lifetime together - emotional, spiritual, and yes, material.  Their love had literally multiplied through children, grandchildren, and (although not during Granddaddy's lifetime) great-grandchildren.  Life wasn't always easy for them.  And since they were human, I'm SURE that the thought of leaving flickered through their minds from time to time.  But they never allowed themselves to go down that path.  They left a legacy of keeping the promise that they had made.

So with these rings, I remember: the love that requested the promise, the hope that made the promise, and the faith that keeps the promise.



This post is linked up to one or more of the following blog parties.  Check them out! Monday: Menu Plan Monday on I'm an Organizing Junkie Wednesday: Works for Me Wednesday at We are THAT Family Friday: 5 Minute Friday at The Gypsy Mama, Company Girl Coffee at Home Sanctuary Other days: A Wise Woman Builds Her Home