Would You Be That Woman?

If God created a special woman, perfectly suited to be your husband's helper,

would you be that woman?

(Debi Pearl)

Today's post derives from remarks that began to overflow the comment box on today's post at the The Generous Wife.   To provide "Hubby Care', Lori advises the wives in her audience to "Do what you can to help".

As my readers know, my husband is a stroke survivor.  He suffered a massive stroke at age 34 which robbed him of speech, reading, writing and mobility.  For 11 years before I married him, he struggled to regain those lost abilities.  His efforts were valiant, his progress miraculous, his prognosis - permanently disabled.

It is my life's work to assist him through this life - to cheer him when he is discouraged - to appreciate his efforts - to acknowledge his fears.  My husband had done all that he knew to do before I came into his life.  Now it is my job, my calling, to stay at his side, as his help meet.  I like to think that I was appointed to be at his right side, his paralyzed right side, to do for him what he cannot do for himself.

That arrangement has worked well - for the most part - since we married.  There really is little that he regularly requires of me on behalf of his right hand.   He had learned to manage rather well with the abilities he had remaining to him long before I came along.

His right hand can grasp like a vice-grip, which is great for opening jars and such.  But, his right hand is difficult to command.  As my husband says, "The hand has a mind of its own."  Among other things, he cannot use his right hand for eating, drinking, writing, brushing his teeth, combing his hair, or buttoning his shirt.  These are just some of the things that he learned to do with his left hand.  (I am sure that you can think of many things to relearn if your dominant hand were permanently disabled.)

My husband had surgery on his left wrist last fall.  To immobilize the wrist he was fitted with a cast that covered the palm of his hand and continued to just inches short of his under-arm.

Look Ma - No Arms!  His left arm was purposefully paralyzed by a cast and his right arm is permanently paralyzed.

So there he sat.  Unable to lift a hand - let alone a finger - to help himself.  Seriously.

Although he could raise the left arm, the angle of the bend made feeding himself impossible.  

We got a drinking bottle that was tall enough so he could get drinks for himself.

But, out of necessity, I learned to shave him,
to brush his teeth, to feed him, to dress him.

I even held a tissue so he could blow his nose, and, to put it in delicate terms, I helped him with other necessary details relative to the expulsion of bodily waste and personal hygiene as required.

I did what was necessary.  

Until the day of sweet relief!

My husband is extremely capable - all things considered.  He is especially ecstatic to have his - hmm - personal life back.

In spite of his coveted independence, my husband realizes just a little more poignantly, he is not expected to do it alone.

After our experience last fall, we both recognize that there is a reason that God created woman to be help meet for her husband.

My husband reaches for the stars to be all that he can be for God and for me.

I am my husband's natural "cheer-leader", his assistant, his confidante, his friend, his lover.  I am my husband's help meet.

God created me to be a special woman, perfectly suited to be my husband's helper.

 I am happy to be that woman.

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