I've been doing a lot of introspection lately. There are some things going on in my life that have caused me to look inward, do some soul-searching, ask myself some tough questions. One thing about tossing hardballs at yourself is that you can be brutally honest and no one will ever know. Except you. And you can't walk away from yourself.
One of the questions I posed to myself is this: Could I live without my wife? It's a fair question. And the temptation is to give a quick, obvious answer, the answer that is expected, the answer that would make me a good husband.
But the honest answer can't be tossed out so quickly.
So I pondered it a bit.
And the answer I came to is that, yes, I could live without her . . .
But I wouldn't want to. I don't want to.
I don't need my wife. I choose her. And choosing is so much greater than needing.
Needing comes automatic. I need air. I need food and water. I need shelter from the elements. We really have no choice; the choice has already been made for us.
But choosing . . . ah, that's intentional. It's something we consciously do.
Every day I wake up and I choose my wife. I choose to love her. I choose to stay faithful to her. I choose to come home to her.
I choose her.
Choosing adds value. I don't love her because I need her. I love her because she's the one I choose. She is valuable to me. She is precious to me. Because I have a choice and I choose her.
We've been through a lot, she and I. She's held my hand through five surgeries, chemotherapy, nasty side effects, embarrassing moments, and multiple hospital stays. She's been by my side through financial difficulties, marriage struggles, four children, disagreements, heartaches, failures, celebrations, and countless other life events, the stuff real life is made of.
And every morning I wake up and choose her. Again and again. And every night I lay my head on my pillow and am thankful for my choice.
I could live without her . . . but I don't want to.