In the romantic movies I watched while growing up, the whole universe seemed to pause when Mr. Right met Miss Right. From then on, apparently the only things they required for survival were doses of staring into each other’s eyes and embracing, preferably in some dreamy exotic locale.
Like many others, I believed this was a true picture of falling in love. But real life doesn’t work like that. I never found that perfect “Mr. Right”—at least not the Hollywood variety—but I did meet my own movie star.
My husband is not a particularly romantic person. He has never showed up on a white horse with a red rose in hand, declaring that I will be his princess forever; he doesn’t pull me outside to gaze at the full moon together; and he hasn’t written me reams of poetry. But he’s upheld me through the dark times, remained by me when I’ve been sick, and survived my mood swings without complaint.
We’re different and know that we need each other. When I’m discouraged, my husband prays for me.1 When I fall asleep on the couch while we’re watching TV, he lowers the volume until I wake up and go to bed. If things get rough, we pray together for divine direction. When we arrive at a solution, we thank God together.
As I’m writing this, he’s gone out—in the rain—to buy what we need to make lunch.
No, he’s not a movie star, but I think he deserves a prize! He is a genuine guy who has proven he’ll stay at my side on sunny or rainy days, for better or for worse. He loves God, me, and our children—and for me, this is the best love story ever told. Thank God He let Mr. Right come my way. He’s the star of my life’s movie.
- See Ecclesiastes 4:9–10. ↩