He told me, along with the surrounding congregation, that I was his “home court advantage.” That no matter how dreary the many matters surrounding him in his outside life become, at the end of the day, I was his safe harbor. His cheerleader; his anchor; his best defense against his critics.
It’s hard to think of my husband having any critics. If you’ve ever met my man, then you would heartily agree. Never have I known a more compassionate, loving individual whose willingness to lay down his heart and life for just about anybody far surpasses the norm. Truly, the love of God resides in his inner being.
A giver, not a taker.
An encourager, not a “deflater.”
A healer, not a wounder.
A lover, not a fighter.
A defender, not an offender.
A faith walker, not just a faith talker.
A mature man, not an infant.
A forgiver, not a grudge-keeper.
A “do-er,” not just a listener.
A pastor, not just a preacher.
A father, not just a sperm-donor.
A husband, not a controller.
So much of what he is, is what I am not. I suppose this is main reason God decided to grace my life with Billy’s. He knew, better than me, just what I needed at just the right time… just in time.
I nearly gave my heart and years to another the second time around. What a disaster that would have been. But God reached down into my dreariness and drew me out; set my feet on higher ground and set my sights in a better direction—a course that would push my feet along a path that would eventually intersect with the path of a man named Billy on his way to becoming a preacher named accordingly.
There’s none finer. And that’s the truth of the matter.
So when the critics arrive as they have arrived in recent days, their “truth” holds little water on my turf. I’m a home-team gal with a whole lot of home-team pride surging through my veins. Sometimes I wish my man would let me in the rink to go a round or two on his behalf; he’s certainly stood in the rink for me on a number of occasions and has the scars to prove it.
But his “better” usually wins out over my “bitter”, and I’m reminded, once again, of why I need him so much.
He forces the issue of my faith. He pushes me to my perfection. He understands the greater gain that can come from a surrender rather than from a frontal assault. He is my knight in shining armor, and I am his damsel in distress. He’s saved me from myself, time and again, and pulled me through the dark forest into the marvelous light of an extraordinary kingdom.
I don’t know how long our lives will extend together on this planet—how much time God will grant us to live our love story—but with my dying breath, I will still be cheering his name.
It’s what a home-team wife does… how a home-team family lives.
You’ve found your home court advantage with us, Preacher Billy. We love you more than words can write; you make our lives a place where we want to live. Thank you for giving your heart to us on a hot July afternoon almost thirteen years ago.
Only God could have known the depth of what that would mean for all of us.
Only God could love us that much.
It’s you and me, babe, from this day forward, through to forever. The line has been drawn, and I know where I stand. How grateful and humbled I am to call you, not only my preacher, but most importantly, my man.
I love you…
PS: The winner of Alicia Chole’s book, Intimate Conversations, was drawn by my daughter this afternoon…Congrats, Denise at Free to be Me. Please send me your snail mail, and I’ll get this to you in time to put it under your tree! Shalom.