Poverty.

Michael and I were married at 21.  Both of us were 21.  I had a head start on him, (which ended up being useless, because what does an Associates of Arts get anyone these days?) and he was fresh off of his mission, with almost zero work experience, trying to find a job that respected a resume stating: "Two years of Volunteer service."

We moved into our 419 square foot home, with what little we had.  Michael was still wearing clothes from high school (my favorite states, "I love Lakeside Football, but I came to see the band," depicting a pumped up football player, with steroid patches and all, biffing it on his face), while I made a poverty-pact with him, to stop buying new clothes.

Everything we owned was thoroughly loved (meaning worn) hand-me-downs.  We took a queen size mattress from his brother, who left on a mission.  We got a set of green corduroy couches from my parents, who had purchased the set for $200 at a second hand store several years before. We stole hampers from our parent's homes (My laundry hamper was always labeled "Serena's" so I'm pretty sure it was legit).  We furnished the corner of our home meant for dining with a small table left out beside a dumpster, whether left dead, or hoping for a new life, we could never be sure.  But it fit in the 7' by 5' spot nicely.

All of these things have been complete blessings in our lives.  However, since the time we first moved in together, the whole dining room idea has been abandoned, with the dining table being amputated to become a coffee table.  The mattress has been flipped several times to avoid wearing our body shapes into the foam indefinitely, and the couch has become a deep cavern, in which only the bravest of souls can find their way out of after a good movie, or serious nap.  At this point, I am convinced Access must have a qualifying detail about the amount of second-hand furniture in ones home, at least under a Chiropractors Only plan.

When Michael and I were planning on getting married, we often (meaning always) were blessed (meaning smothered) with good advice.  My favorite bit was, "You're going to be really poor the first little while, but that's going to be the best time of your life.  You really grow together when you've got nothin."  Cynical as I may sound, it is unreservedly true. The moments when we stress about having nothing, are the moments we realize we have everything.  Even though climbing out of the couch is a two person ordeal, and our teflon has been previously scratched, our marriage is stronger than ever, and our love never lacks.  It is great.

Michael.

I'd like to take a moment and credit my husband.  He is incredible.  This guy has hardly been home from his mission for a year, and he's working pretty much full-time, and going to school full-time, and he's a full-time husband!  This guy does so much in a day, sometimes I can't even believe he's real.  Today he's taking his finals, then heading off to work for a 7 hour shift, and we won't see each other until 10:45 at night.  A normal day follows something like this:

1. 7:30am Wake Up
2. 8:00am Leave for School
3. 8:40am - 2:30pm Classes
4. 3:00pm - 10:30pm Work
5. 10:45pm - 12:00am Spend time with Wife
6. 12:00am Recharge. Repeat.

This man is just incredible.  He deals with so much all day, gets good grades, works so hard he receives constant kudos from his boss, and then comes home to me.  He comes home excited to sit down and relax, play with the dog, and watch TV.  But then there's me.  Raging hormones and all, I hug him, kiss him, get him a drink, and by the time the night is through I've fallen apart about at least two meaningless things, used a roll of toilet paper blowing my nose, and downed half the chocolate in the house.  And what does he do?  After his long day, without a break or a rest, he holds me.  He tells me everything is going to be alright.  He tells me I'm beautiful.  He gets me another roll of toilet paper.  He comforts me, patiently, until I am calm.  Then he straightens the sheets, fluffs my pillow and tucks me in.  Sometimes he comes straight to bed, and other times he takes a moment to straighten up the house, finish the dishes in the sink, or make sure I have clothes ready for the next morning.    Either way, he always gives me a kiss before I fall asleep.  And before he leaves for school the next day, before I've even begun to stir, he always gives me a kiss on the cheek, and he's gone before I realize it's morning.  

Christ once asked, "What manner of men ought ye to be?"  

My husband answers that question every day.