It's the Little Things That Count

Nobody notices those behind-the-scenes good deeds of unsung spouses—until now.

Rachael Phillips

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The ring of evil green lights glimmered through midnight blackness from the ceiling of the hotel room.

I held my breath, not daring to move a muscle. One minute. Two. An hour. An eternity. Finally, I could bear it no more. I gently nudged my husband, Steve, who'd been lost in peaceful slumber.

"Mygwtzx … ?" he mumbled, then turned over and drifted off again.

In terror, I elbowed him harder.

"What the—?" Steve half-rose from his pillow.

"Shhhh! Quiet! They'll hear you!"

"Who will hear me?"

I trembled. "The Communists," I said.

Complete silence. Then, "Why would the Communists listen to us sleep?"

"I don't know. But look at those green lights! I know they're listening."

The bedside lamp went on. With spiky hair and incredulous glare, Steve resembled an indignant triceratops roused from his sleep. But he explained calmly that the evil green lights indicated the presence of the hotel's sprinkler system, and no, they had nothing to do with the Communists, voyeuristic or otherwise. I'd been dreaming.

After 27 years, Steve's an old hand at dealing with my temporary night psychoses. He's scared off screaming fighter jets who buzzed through our small Midwestern neighborhood (in actuality, snowplows). When nightly thumps and bumps convinced me an army of burglars coveted our obsolete VCR and ancient TV, his courage knew no bounds. When pink-raincoat-clad people carrying a black coffin followed me on a mad chase through ghostly hallways (a combination of too many old Doris Day movies and PBS Mystery programs), he dispelled them with a single thrust of razor-sharp logic.

Although Steve doesn't remember including this service in his wedding vows (I think it falls somewhere under "for worse"), he's never once hinted about having me committed.

Surely this unequivocally qualifies him for an Unsung Spouse Award.

Unlike the Oscars, these unique awards aren't given to the gifted and the beautiful on television before huge audiences of unnaturally thin and gorgeous people in scanty clothing. Instead, only the winner's spouse and God witness the Unsung Spouse Awards ceremonies, which celebrate the unnoticed and unappreciated heroes and heroines of marriage. Even the spouse doesn't show up at times! But in unseen timeless reality, thousands of angels raise their wings in salute to these masters of meekness. Music and rainbow laser lights explode from every side as God himself applauds and high-fives the champions, which include:

The woman who maintains regular correspondence with her in-laws, as her husband hasn't yet discovered the inventions of e-mail, telephone, ink pen, or paper.
The man whose wife believes cars run on gasoline fumes. He fills her tank and charges her cell phone batteries so hatchet murderers won't find her stranded along the freeway at 11 P.M.
The woman who buys, wraps, and delivers Christmas presents for her husband's employees, his parents, his siblings, his children, and him, yet makes a big deal of his single late-Christmas Eve purchase for her.

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Originally published in: Marriage Partnership, 2003, Fall

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