Here, then, are the top ten reasons I love my guy:

10. He farts openly. This is very important. I grew up in a home where bodily noises were a normal part of daily life, but once I got to kindergarten I learned quickly and humiliatingly that such noises were taboo in front of other people. As I got older, I wondered often if I would ever feel as comfortable and unembarrassed with a guy (especially a guy I was dating) as I did with my family of origin. Well, I do. In fact, we are so comfortable and unembarrassed about bodily noises around here that Jane calls us the Tooter MacGruder family.

9. He loves to cook and bake. This, too, is very important because I love to eat. And I really love to eat food that someone else has prepared.

8. He’s a geek. With cool glasses. I’m not sure what it is about smart men in hip glasses that is so darn sexy, but there it is.

7. He laughs easily and often, and his laugh is contagious.

6. A corollary to #7: he thinks I’m funny. Seriously. I make him laugh on a daily basis. You have no idea how healing this is for a girl who grew up believing herself to be a little dark storm cloud.

5. He is interested in other people. I love the way he’s always bringing me stories about some guy he met who’s passionate about motorcycles or computer code or surfing or whatever. I get lots of great material and a glimpse into others’ lives because of my husband’s curiosity.

4. He is thoughtful, in all senses of the word. He anticipates others’ needs and tries to meet them. And he thinks deeply about ideas, issues, and especially his faith.

3. He believes in me. He believes in my writing and encourages me to use my voice. And he has never once made me feel bad about being a financial drain on our family. My writing “career” has cost us a fair amount of money over the years, but he believes in me and my writing enough to be willing to make that sacrifice. He even calls it an investment.

2. He is a great dad. I love watching him interact with our kids. He is patient and kind. He expects a lot from Jack and Jane, but he also gives them the tools they need to do what he expects of them.

And the number one reason I love my husband:

1. He loves me. I still think it’s little short of miraculous when the people you love love you back. And when they’ve seen you at your worst and still love you – well, that is a miracle.

Underneath that was a pink construction paper heart and the words, “Congratulations Kimberlee and Doug!”

Doug laughed. He thought it was hilarious, the kind of thing you’d see after the end of an article in Reader’s Digest. I laughed, too, but only with my mouth. In my heart, I was terrified. I was sure I’d been found out. Someone knew.

They knew I wasn’t marriage material (whatever that is), that I was a liar and a hypocrite, that I was only pretending to be someone normal and functional and okay, someone who could be a loving partner in a marriage.

But I plastered a smile on my face and posed with my laughing soon-to-be husband for a photo next to the readerboard. I was pretty good at pretending I was okay even when I was not, and I wasn’t about to let on that it scared me that someone knew that about me.

Ten years later, I look back on that girl, and I want to give her a big hug. I want to tell her, “You aren’t as screwed up as you think you are” and “Relax. It was an innocent faux pas. No one was sending you a secret threat message.”

But it wouldn’t have mattered. That girl was determined to see herself through the critical eyes of the men at the Belvedere Tennis Club and through the even more critical eyes of their catty, mean-spirited wives. As Doug said to me during that first year we were married, “You won’t believe the nice things people actually say about you, but you believe all sorts of mean things nobody ever said.”

But somebody did say those mean things. Me. And the little chorus of critical voices I carried around in my head and projected onto almost everyone I met.

However innocent a faux pas those words on the readerboard were, they were also prophetic. Love really does cover a multitude of sins. It’s taken ten long years, but the dailiness of living with my husband, of living in the circle of his love for me, of slowly coming to see myself through his loving eyes instead of my own critical ones—this has transformed me.

Oh, the tennis club men and their nasty wives are still around, but I don’t listen to them quite as much these days. I tend to laugh when I mess up instead of freaking out that someone is going to find out and I’ll be a pariah. I’m more likely to own up to mistakes instead of hiding them or verbally flagellating myself for them. And I’m way more likely to tell the truth about who I am than hide behind a fake smile or a misrepresentation or even an outright lie.

It’s a process, of course, and I still have a long way to go on this journey into love and trust. But I am so grateful to my husband for loving me faithfully, even when I am unlovable, for walking with me these past ten years, for holding my hand and covering me with his love when I am scared and insecure, when I’ve made mistakes and even when I’ve lied about it.

Love covers a multitude of sins.

Love makes us beautiful and worthy and wonderful in the eyes of those who love us.

And love, more than anything else, sees truly.

On Tuesday, I took my kids to the Space Needle: we ate lunch while looking out at Puget Sound from 520 feet in the air. Then we walked around on the observation deck. We found their dad’s work building, spotted two helicopters on the roofs of local news stations, and counted four ferries, two sailboats, and a barge on Elliott Bay.

When they’d had enough, we came back to earth and took the monorail into downtown, played on the escalators at Westlake Center, watched a makeshift elevator deliver building materials through the windows of a high-rise apartment building under construction, and took the bus home—where I promptly collapsed on my bed.

Jane fell asleep after a half hour of squirming, and a half hour after that, Jack, bless his heart, got his own snack. He even brought me spoonfuls of his yogurt—including the very last bite. Usually I would have said, “Oh no, honey, you eat it.” But I’d been thinking about receiving love, so I let him give me that last bite. Then he brought me strawberries (he even washed them!) and poured me a glass of apple juice. When Jane woke up, he got her a snack, too—without my even asking.

Jack abides in my love for him—it’s the foundation that secures his life—and that enabled him to give love on this day when I was weary and worn out. When we abide in Jesus’ love, we, like Jack, bear “fruit that will last,” the fruit of loving one another as He loves us.

The Lectionary passages for the 6th Sunday of Easter:
Acts 10:44-48
Psalm 98
1 John 5:1-6
John 15:9-17