By Saundra L. Woods
Well, maybe not all marriages ... but, I recently realized that mine is much like a plate of spaghetti!
One afternoon my husband and I sat at a local Italian restaurant for a meal. Since it was around 3:30pm, the waitress gave us the option of choosing from the lunch or dinner menu.
“What’s the difference?” my husband asked.
“Well, everything is the same,” she replied, “except the dinner portions are larger.”
“Ok” my beloved enthusiastically answered. He has always been known to eat his share and then some; and having missed lunch that day, this sounded especially fitting.
“I’ll have the spaghetti and meatballs, please” he politely requested.
“How many meatballs would you like?”
“I get to choose? How big are they?” he asked.
Demonstrating with her thumb and forefinger, she estimated about the size of a golf ball.
“I’ll have five please!”
Next question, “And would you like marinara sauce or meat sauce?”
Being hungry, he said “meat sauce” and smiled happily.
We munched on the salad and breadsticks while we waited. My chicken parmigiana and spaghetti had no choice of sauce, by the way.
The waitress returned and casually placed a “derby” filled with spaghetti, meatballs and sauce before my husband! I got full just looking at it! He began his expedition to the bottom of the plate.
After a while, as I watched him visibly struggling to finish, I asked him why he didn’t stop and just take the rest home?
“I ordered it, and I’m gonna finish it!” came his retort.
And then it hit me! Our marriage is like that bowl of spaghetti!
When we got married, he stated firmly that he would get married only once and divorce was not an option. His level of commitment to me and our marriage was just as strong as his commitment to finish his plate of spaghetti. In the 35 years of marriage, I have never distrusted him, never had to go without necessities. I have never heard an angry shout, or a foul word from his lips. He has always been a gentleman. I never feared him. If I was in trouble, I could call on him.
At first though, I did not recognize the value of that sort of commitment. I wanted what every girl wants—the-sweep-you-off-your-feet, passionate, Romeo-type. Many works of fiction have brainwashed us into believing that encompasses real love. Not having that in my own marriage, initially left me disappointed.
But I was his plate of spaghetti.
It wasn’t the best spaghetti ever, nor was he any longer starving. But he was going to finish the spaghetti. He was going to see it through—every part.
Before you tsk, tsk me and shake your head, or say “Oh that poor woman, she sees herself as no more than a mildly satisfying plate of spaghetti,” here’s a divine truth.
Once I became a daughter of our King, I realized the only love I truly needed was already in Him! My husband’s affection was never in competition with God’s love, because my husband hadn’t tried to meet every fantasy of mine. He could never love me as I truly needed to be loved ... no matter how much I desired it. The greatest love is the love of God that sent His one and only Son, Jesus, to the cross to die for me ... and you. I am loved by the Creator of the universe! That’s the love we all long for! The love of another human being pales in comparison and could never, ever, fill the Jesus-shaped-hole we all have. He’s the One that ultimately swept me off my feet.
I know that my husband and I love each other to the best of our human ability. I know that my husband is a trustworthy, steadfast, and loyal man. And we both love God more than each other. When we are both in glory, we will no longer be husband and wife, but children of the Most High God in Heaven.
Any love from my husband here on earth is just extra ... like grated cheese on a plate of spaghetti.
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