Anyway, in honor of his birthday, his 57th, I thought I'd share a few things about him.
First, five things you might not know about my Beve:
(though I'm sure hope my kids do!)
- He's pidgeon-toed. Decidedly so. In high school, his pidgeon-toed run on the basketball court was something to behold. My dad always said he looked like he'd been put together with rubber bands, he was so elastic.
- His nickname was Slime because he sweats easily and a whole lot. And doesn't stink. Opponents would slide right off him on hoop courts. That he doesn't stink has been an 'annoyance' to me all the days of our lives. Can you imagine? Never needing deoderant? Amazing.
- He's left-handed. Writes all the way upside-down with the worst of them. I say this with love because I'm left handed myself. And his handwriting is almost illegible, growing more so with each passing year. Funny thing, though. When we first married, I couldn't figure out how he made his small a--starting from the bottom, circling backwards. These days, I make mine exactly the same way (it's easier for a lefty!). Marriage will do that to you.
- He wasn't very mechanically-minded when we first got married but now he changes oil in all our cars, has built decks, a garage, remodeled a bathroom, painted and wall-papered just about every room in every house we've ever owned. He's an eager learner when it comes to such stuff.
- Just the other day I realized that most of the furnishings in our house (from furniture to dishes) are the result of Beve's thrifting. It's remarkable, really. I groan against such things, but deep-down, am glad he loves his 'craigslist devotionals,' as I teasingly call them.
Now, seven things I appreciate about Beve:
- He has a heart for the hurting. Beve is a counselor in a school where the main focus is AP (Advanced Placement). But for Beve, it's the hurting, the marginalized, the broken who most matter. He stands with them, goes to battle for them, and just plain loves them. I love that no matter how messed up a kid is, Beve can say, "He's really a pretty good kid," or "I really like her."
- He sees every part of his life as ministry, without even thinking about it. Whether it's sitting in his office with kids, talking to a room full of other counselors, or mowing lawns, he's serving the Kingdom. He stops by to see his elderly lawn-care customers just because he cares about them, takes the time to listen to them when he serves them because he might be the only interaction they have each week.
- He's the good Samaritan. Sometimes he tells me about things he does for others, sometimes he doesn't. It's remarkable how much this man gives. He's the one who stops on the free-way and takes people to get gas (or gives them gas from his own gas-cans). More than once cards have arrived in the mail from complete strangers who have been helped by him and are awed by that help.
- He's a committed friend. In this last year two of his closest friends in town were dealing with cancer. Beve was present and present and present for these men. Walking in the fire with them, so to speak. We've been invited to intimate family gatherings because Beve feels like family to folks who have other family (I'm like another in-law, I suppose).
- He's a wonderful son and he's the son Grampie knows. The other day Grampie had wheeled himself very close to my chair so we could talk, and, as if often the case, he'd forgotten about Beve sitting across the room. Just seeing him from the corner of his eye, Grampie asked me, "Who's that?" "Who do you think?" I asked. "A graduate?" I laughed. "Grampie, LOOK at him!" Grampie did, and, with a HUGE grin, said, "Why, that's my boy!" Yes, Beve is definitely Grampie's boy. All the way through. Enjoying these closing-in-on-midnight hours with him because they're sweet and good and he wouldn't miss them for anything!
- He's a great dad. He's soo committed to his children. He worries about them, thinks about them, makes them laugh, loves hanging out with them. They're his best thing, as he would have said years ago. In August, he'll drive SK down to the Bay area to help her start her new life there. He wouldn't have it any other way. In fact, there was NO WAY anyone else was going to drive HIS baby to California. It's what a dad does. He did it when E moved to Colorado for that season, and so he will again. Crowded car and all.
- He's God's best gift to me. After Himself, of course. I take Beve for granted, but he is. He does so much in my life. You can't imagine. More every day. I'm sometimes like a potted plant in my own life, and Beve just picks up the slack and does everything, without complaint that I'm just barely hanging in there. And with the heavy lifting he does in my life, he's also my best friend on whom I bounce every thought--silly or profound (and usually, I say, "does that make sense?" at the end of my lengthy paragraphs of thought--my brain isn't hurting, that's for sure!).
|This was taken last summer in front of his old home in Pullman, Washington (right across the street from my old home) where he lived when we first met in 1966.|