Devoted to the Propagation and Defense of New Testament Christianity
January 8, 1970

My Wife

Larry Ray Hafley

She is my wife. Let me tell you about her. Yes, she is beautiful — exquisitely so, but her loveliness will never be marred by wrinkles, stooped shoulders or a lined face. The inexorable toll of time will enhance her special grace.

Her smiles are not forced deceit, nor are they gifts of fickle expectation. Rather, they are the result of an inner radiance. The shimmering splendor of a silver star is but a reflection of the gentleness in her azure eyes. Beneath the facade of a fraudulent charm in the hearts of some there are private fits of frenzy. But not so of my wife! No, her placid exterior is supported by silent serenity.

She has a "thing" about shoes. She wants to buy a pair a week, but succumbs to the desire once a year. Her idea of new shoes is to glue together and dye an old pair. Her last three or four dresses were bought cheaply by the yard and painstakingly sewn on a portable Singer. She is more thrilled if I get a new tie than when I buy her a matching skirt and blouse. Not ungrateful, just made that way.

Pouting, jealousy, and revenge are not in her vocabulary or character. Her possession of me does not hinder my wants, wishes, or responsibilities as a man. When I neglect her, she does not grow cold, cruel, or vindictive. She thinks my thoughtlessness of her is caused because I am "working too hard," so she comes to soothe and to comfort. When we have a "spat" she does not run home to mother, but quietly dabs her sorrow with a Kleenex.

She is not perfect. No one is. She is more than I deserve, and all I shall ever need. She is real, not a fleeting dream, but when she caught my eye I parted the clouds and plucked her from the sky.

— 602 W. Lee St. Plano, III. 60545