My wardrobe is not exactly sexy. I need teacher clothes, farm clothes, jogging clothes, church clothes, and an occasional cute outfit for going out. Somehow, no matter how diligently I study cut, fabric, and style, when I put on the clothes, they are instantly frumpy. Enter my husband the stylist: This six-foot-two hairy “Dan the Man” can style me right. The outfits he picks are always complimented. I should never get dressed without consulting him.
We are sitting in church on a Sunday night, me in the usual frumpy attire, watching a video as part of the devotional. It’s a love story of the truest kind. Boy grows up friend to brother of “Girl next door.” She notices him. He notices her noticing him. He isn’t interested. But then one day Boy is seventeen and Girl is sixteen, and she’s “dolled up” wearing an A-line dress. (Not a frumpy choice, according to Dan the Stylist.) Boy falls in love. Boy and Girl have a wonderful life on the California Coast enjoying the outdoors and bicycling together. Late in this love story tragedy strikes. Boy and Girl are in their happy retirement years, until Girl gets forgetful.
I am already tearing up. I’ve seen this story first hand with my grandmother and then my own mother. I live in fear of the brain gnarling fingers of dementia reaching for me.
Indeed. . . Girl is diagnosed with Alzheimer’s.
But does Boy let this stop him from loving and caring for Girl? No way! Boy knows Girl loves to bicycle along the beach, so he designs a special bike chair for her. He takes her on daily rides preserving her happiness, giving her joy and dignity. He says, “I am determined to care for her every need. You see, God has loved us so unconditionally and I understand that God has put his love in my heart. And because I realize how much God has loved me, that’s how I too can love my lovely wife. She has done so much for me over all of these years. Now she can’t but I can, and I can return her love. And it’s a love that, to me, means I can do everything for her.”
Now I’m in danger of the big ugly tears. I lean in toward my husband and want to melt a little as I whisper in his ear. “I know you are going to take care of me that way.” I have no doubt he will do everything in his power to keep me happy if my brain shrinks.
Dan wraps an arm around me and holds me close, lips so near to my ear only I can hear, “Just wait, Baby. I’m going to have a you dolled up for every bike ride. You’ll be the sexiest old lady on wheels. Halter tops, short shorts, high heels. . .”
Have you ever needed to guffaw in church? Let me tell you, I should excuse myself and laugh loud and hard instead of this obvious shaking up and down. But you know what? I realize my grin will be just as big as my laughter when Dan has complete control of my wardrobe. He’ll leave no frump whatsoever! When you see him pedal me by, give me a big wolf whistle and leave him be.
For you: You can read the real story of Bill (Boy) and Glad (Girl) and the bike chair at scoop.upworthy.com.
(Picture courtesy of Kim at Water Street Design.)
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