Let Me Tell You A Story

First,   thank you once again for your dinner suggestions.  I apologize for being a little late with this, but this week I have chosen to make the General Tsos Chicken suggested last week.  So, Melissa, you will be entered into the drawing for the oil warmers.

I have realized that I'm really crappy at blog giveaways and that I cannot commit myself to being consistent with my blog in any way.  I've also realized that it's kinda ridiculous of me to expect any of you to think of dinner suggestions FOR ME when it is so hard for me to even do it for myself.  SO---i'm not going to bug you about helping me any more.  I will, of course, still have the February drawing, and the one in December for the shelf, and if you happen to give me any additional dinner suggestions between now and then, I will love you forever, for sure.

Now--I want to tell you a story.

There once was a beautiful girl who had recently married.  She loved her husband dearly and was excited to love and support him.  One of her opportunities to do so came in the form of attending his hockey games.  The girl did not love hockey.  She did not particularly care for the environment and people that accompanied it and most importantly,  she did not love the fighting that inevitably erupted during the games.  Her husband was not a docile, reserved, peace maker-type guy, so she was terrified of her husband being in one of those fights.  So, while trying to be as supportive as possible, she also made clear to her husband that if ever he was involved in one of these fights, she would leave the game and never return for another.  
Well, the time came for the  girl to attend her husband's hockey game.  She sat up in the stands by a friend.  She was nervous, but enjoyed watching her husband enjoy himself.  He was a good player,  but and very aggressive.   This made her more nervous because a certain player on the opposing team did not appreciate this aggression.  At last,  this other player had had enough.  He was very angry with the  girl's husband.  He did not like being challenged.  He started to fight.  He started to punch and beat on the girl's husband.  He was really big and tall and he really scared the girl.  What would her husband do?  Would he ignore her warnings and give in to the fight?  Would he lose his temper?  She watched to find out.  She was afraid, and while she did not want her husband to fight, she also did not want him to be hurt.  She wanted to yell something really mean and intimidating at the offender.  She did her best--"Don't--hurt--my--husband!" (That was all she could come up with?)  Her husband just stood there, still.  He didn't cower.  He didn't turn away.  He did not look afraid.  And he did not look like a five-year-old throwing a temper tantrum.  He just stood there, blocking his face, until the referee pulled the offender away.   What control!  What dignity!

Oh, man!  The girl had never been so proud....until about 11 years later.

The girl's husband was under a great amount of stress.  He was overworked, sleep deprived and struggling to meet life's countless demands.  He was involved in a disagreement/misunderstanding with an associate/customer and was unsure about how to proceed.  His  wife was worried for him and had been praying and thinking about how she might help him.  One evening the phone rang.  Her husband answered it.  The frustrated customer was on the line, struggling to maintain his composure.  "This could get really ugly," the girl thought.  She listened in, worried and apprehensive about how her husband would react.  What would he choose to say?  How would he communicate his feelings?  Would he be able to maintain professionalism and still defend himself?  He remained silent for a long time.   Then he took a deep breath, gathered his thoughts, and began explaining himself--calmly and confidently.   The girl thought back to the hockey game.... Her heart swelled with pride.  She smiled at her husband and her eyes encouraged him.  She gave him a thumb's up and motioned (and commotioned) silently in whatever way she could to communicate her approval and pride.  He understood.  When he hung up the phone, he sat on the ground with his back against the wall.  He did not look up for a moment.  His wife watched him, waiting.  She knew he would not be able to look at her without smiling.  He knew he had done well by maintaining his control.  He knew his wife was proud.  Oh, man, she was!  She was proud, and impressed, and so, so grateful.