Wife's nobleness is greatest virtue

Last May, my wife, Patricia, and I were spending a week on Hilton Head Island to celebrate our 30th wedding anniversary.

On the first day, we went to our favorite old haunt for lunch, a Greek cafe with fine food, relaxed and free of schedules and routines. After we had ordered and were eating our food casually, I suddenly had my breath taken away while listening to my wife express nobility and servanthood. It was like a tornado blowing through my soul.

I suddenly realized Patricia was still unpredictable enough to surprise me, and that, unlike a lot of marriages, she hadn't become some extension of me, a supporting actress, if you will. I stared at her across the table in disbelief, like some profound mystery or a sweet stranger whom I had just met. Through her words, she relieved me of my burdens and weariness in an instant.

Aristotle once said, "Character is the decision a person makes when the choice is not obvious." Patricia has always had that character Aristotle talks about, developed through her own personal adversity and suffering, now measured and matured.

But why was I surprised at her display of character, so simple and direct? She has always had God at the center of her thoughts and carried a strong personal relationship with him. Proverbs 12:4 reminds us: "A wife of noble character is her husband's crown."

Now I ask you, who can argue against Aristotle and Proverbs?

What was it that Patricia said that came at me like a tornado, healing the tears in my soul?

It was precipitated when a pregnant young woman entered the cafe with her husband, sat at a table across the room from us and ordered their lunch. At the time, we both commented at her radiance and joy as they held hands across the table.

At this point, we were finishing our lunch and they had just ordered theirs. Patricia looked at me and asked me if we could pay for their lunch anonymously and just leave them with a paid tab and unspoken good wishes and blessings. Just think, here they are about to start their family any day now and this may be their last private hour for a while. What might their conversation be about?

I called our waiter over quietly. I asked him to put their tab on ours and when it was time for them to leave just tell them it was an early baby gift. We then left and both of us felt our hearts lift with joy.

Patricia gave richly of herself that day, her greatest virtue on display. And I was proud that she modeled to my soul what character must always be: "a choice not obvious" but necessary.

For me, it was like a tornado blowing through my soul; a wind of sacrifice and foot washing; of humbleness and love.

Lee McVay is a short-story writer at the Summerville Writers Guild and works part time with Homeland Security.