Thank God for the Father of My Children

My husband Murray is a happy guy. Sadly, I’ve always been more on the sour side.

After almost thirty-two years, fortunately, he seems to be wearing off more on me than the other way around.

And hopefully on our children too. I’ve been told that my sons all smile a lot. They get that from their father.

Murray constantly tells jokes. Once a lady we knows said to him, “Murray, you amuse yourself.”

And he does, even if we don’t always laugh at his jokes, he does.

I’m trying to be more like Murray, smile more, laugh more, take things less seriously, make more jokes, sing more songs.

He is fascinated by people’s stories that he finds on podcasts, Facebook, people he meets in grocery stores. Like a child, he sees everything as new. Murray says, “Everyone has a great story.”

When I go a little crazy, he is stable. He sticks with me and helps me figure out what to do next once I calm down. The longer I know him, the more I love him.

He seeks to do nice things for me—making me a strawberry tinged water with a new fruit infuser cup we have; typing up the handouts I got from the writers’ retreat we went on; bringing me a cup of coffee; reminding me that he loves me.

A prayer I’ve heard Murray say many times is, “Help me be more like Jesus every day.” I see this in him.

My prayer for my husband and adult children is that they grow to learn and enjoy more every day the incredible and delightful people they all are.