I was a young philosophy student about to be married. In one of my last classes, struggling through Soren Kierkegaard’s Fear and Trembling, this passage lit up the page:
“A man requires his wife to leave father and mother, but if he were to regard it as a proof of her extraordinary love for him that for his sake she became a lukewarm, indifferent daughter, etc., then he is more foolish than the greatest fool. If he had any idea what love is, he would then wish to discover that as a daughter and sister she was perfect in love and see in that an assurance that his wife would love him as she does nobody else in the kingdom.”
A decade later, watching my wife take care of our two special-needs children, I think back to Kierkegaard’s words. I love and help out with our children — don’t get me wrong — but I rely heavily on their mother to love and nurture them.
I don’t know what I would do without her.
As an insecure fiancé, I never thought my bride and I would face the kinds of challenges and sorrows we have so far. But in loving God, her parents, siblings, friends, children, colleagues, neighbors, enemies — she has loved me perfectly.
I’m glad I married her.
Marry someone who loves other people.