He Asked Me With His Eyes

Photographed by Steve Bingham, Old Man

 He stood between snowbanks on the passenger side of my car. Stopped at a red light, I read his cardboard sign, and studied the man holding it. A soft grey beard hung to his neck, and a woolen Russian hat wrapped around his ears and head.

The gentleman's eyes sought confirmation for the nonverbal cues in the car ahead of me. Moving forward, he approached their passenger window, and shook hands with the person there, nodding his head politely.

He saw me watching, and asked me with his eyes if he should come over. The light turned green. Awkwardly, clumsily, I pulled over to the side of the road, and said yes with my eyes.

Pulling a bag of Chinese steamed buns from my purse, I stretched to the passenger door. I was too short, and couldn't reach the window or the door. The gentleman stood politely outside my window, while I struggled to reach it for him. Seeing my inability, he reached for the handle, and opened my car.

A flash of panic revealed to me how vulnerable I suddenly was if his motives were ignoble. A gun in his pocket and I would be hostage in an instant. My purse lay on the seat between us, and our eyes met.

"Here, they're sweet jam buns. They're good." I proferred the bag.

The light changed from red to green again, and I reached uselessly for the passenger door, as cars lined up behind me, waiting.

There was no time for conversation, no time for more explanations, or a "God bless you." The exchange was too fast, and left me feeling sad for a missed opportunity.

Smiling a gracious thank you, he shut the door for me, and stepped back onto the snowbank. Slipping my bag of guava jam buns into his jacket, he stood tall, and tucked his hands into pockets.

There is a vulnerability in our asking, and a vulnerability in our offering help, too, I'm finding. Two humans meet on equal footing, and clumsily, respectfully, speak with their eyes. 

(Linking too with Emily and gang at Imperfect Prose.) 

Captain, My Captain ... and God as the Greatest Psychologist

Okay, some feedback from yesterday's post reminded me that you may not know me well enough for me to not explain myself. Yesterday's post spoke of me threatening and forbidding my husband and being critical of him. That's wrong of me, obviously, and partly tongue in cheek!

And actually in our house, my husband is the boss. We believe from a look at some parts of the Bible that he is the leader of our home. We also believe that we are equal, and that both of our feedback is important. He has the hard job of loving me and the kids in the sacrificial way that Jesus loves his church -- thus putting my, our, needs above his own, and dying to what he wants for the benefit of our welfare. Whew! Hard job, huh?!

So in any hard decisions we may have to make, my husband and I talk over the issue, give feedback, weigh each other's ideas and then choose. In the hard cases where we don't know, I love resting in the fact that this is his choice. Isn't it great that God is a master psychologist, giving marriage advice from around 62 AD that counselors today say make for a fulfilling marriage?

And me? My marriage job in obeying God is attempting to meet my husband's psychological needs of being respected. By me being his biggest fan, by my believing in him and cheering him on (giving honest feedback), and submitting to his lead in the dance of life... I am his wife, his lover and his friend.

As a passionate independent woman, I sometimes forget and take the lead in the dance of life. Several years ago, I chose an affectionate pet name for my husband as a reminder for my heart of who is leading our dance. "Captain." Our teens at youth group love it, and grin at us when it comes up. "Captain" is a natural part of my conversation now and a term of love.

So, yes, yesterday's post was showing my wrong attitude then, and being honest about my struggles. Thanks for stopping by, for reading, for growing with me. I appreciate you being here with me. Thanks for your great feedback and support!

What about you? What pet names do you have for your man and why?

(P.S. For you history buffs out there... know where the "Captain, my captain" term came from?)