Nate loved language. He read the dictionary for pleasure and used seventy-five cent words in everyday conversation. He was my personal walking, talking lexicon, and I loved asking him, “What’s that word? What does it mean?”

My husband never met a word he didn’t like. If he heard something new, he’d do exactly as all the grade school teachers instructed: use it in a sentence. One try at that and it was his forever. I recall the first time I ever asked him a word question. We were newlyweds, and he was in law school. When he referred to “becoming an attorney,” I asked, “What’s the difference between an attorney and a lawyer?”

“Nothing,” he said with a smile. “But that was a really cute question.” (Spoken like a man in love.) That was the start of forty years of word questions from me to him. Thankfully, he never criticized me for so much not-knowing.

In high school, Nate was the captain of the debate team (second from left), propelling his classmates to excellence and a case full of trophies. Words were important, and he made it his business to learn all he could. As he studied the dictionary, he underlined words he needed to come back to, and made tiny notes in the margins. He memorized definitions, then quizzed himself year after year to be sure it all stuck.

He didn’t only enjoy English, though. He knew a smattering of all the romance languages and also Latin, the source of many English words. He also minored in college Russian and spoke it fluently. He used to say, “No, not fluently…” but whenever he ran into a native Russian, the two of them got lost in animated conversations the rest of us didn’t understand. One waitress and one hair cutter were particularly entranced by his interest in their language and loved to see him coming.

The other day as I was reading a morning devotional book, I came across a word I didn’t know and was frustrated I couldn’t just holler into the next room, “Nate, what does ‘abrogated’ mean?” Instead I had to go to the dictionary, a boring alternative to asking him . (It means to nullify or do away with something.)

I never really appreciated Nate’s massive vocabulary skills, at least not until now when I find myself hunting through the dictionary. He had a fantastic memory and seemed never to forget what he’d learned. We all looked up to him for his intelligence, and I don’t think I ever asked a question for which he didn’t supply the answer.

(But lest I give the impression he was perfect, he did destroy a toilet bowl trying to get rusted bolts loose with a hammer.)

We all have strengths and weaknesses. Nate took advantage of his love affair with words by studying them and quizzing himself over and over. Language is important, and words run the world. But there are words, and then there is The Word, God’s definitive Word on all matters. Thankfully none of us needs an extensive vocabulary or a grasp on foreign language to be schooled by Scripture. The words on its pages concern matters of the heart, and since we all have one of those, its promises and words of eternal hope are meant for us all. To take full advantage of them, we don’t even need a dictionary.

“Your word is a lamp to my feet and a light for my path.” (Psalm 119:105)
[Jesus said,] “Heaven and earth will pass away, but my words will never pass away.” (Matthew 24:35)

All of us can get selfish in a hurry, and in marriage, we get there twice as fast, expecting our mates to think just like we do. Actually, we want them to become exactly like us.

One slice of married life in which the me-monster can raise its hideous head is in our gift-giving to each other. As is true with most wives and husbands, anniversaries, birthdays and holidays are a reason to shop for, purchase and wrap up something special for our mates. We think ahead to the grand opening and the pleasure on a true love’s face when he or she discovers what’s inside.

Nate and I were no different, trying our best to please each other with small gifts. I remember the year he gave me a pretty wine-colored fountain pen. It had a white star on the tip, which meant nothing to me, but later I learned it was a Mont Blanc pen for which he paid $400. The only trouble was, I didn’t like fountain pens. They made splotches on the paper and their writing tips had to be periodically cleaned. They ran out of ink quickly and had to be refilled from a bottle, a messy, finger-staining process.

I thanked Nate lovingly, as if a fountain pen had been at the top of my wish list, then put it in the back of a drawer. When he wondered where it was and why I wasn’t using it, the ugly truth came out. He was disappointed, and I felt badly, but it was Nate who had the pen collection, not me.

I didn’t do much better in my gifting him. One year I arranged for his initials to be carved into a crystal paperweight. It would look dramatic on his desk and be dazzling when the sun hit it. His response included a smile and a thank you, but I could see I’d missed the mark. In actuality, it was me who had the glass collection and loved the paperweight.

Fifteen years later, we were chatting over a restaurant dinner when we learned we’d been giving gifts we’d wanted to receive. We laughed hard recounting some of our self-love gifts to each other, like the syrupy, romantic movies I’d given Nate, and the chocolates he’d given me when I was dieting. After that it was easy to give presents that were genuinely appreciated by first studying the other person’s likes and then choosing accordingly.

Both of us should have known this, since we’d memorized The Golden Rule in Sunday school. In other words, if I would delight in a glass-gift to add to my collection, I should know enough to give Nate a pen-gift for his collection, rather than a piece of glass.

When I was a teen, mom told me she was still learning new things about dad, to whom she’d been married for twenty years. At the time, I thought that was nonsense. After being married a while, I got it.

But there was one more step after learning something new about Nate. If I discounted it as unimportant because I didn’t feel the same as he did, the me-monster was still in charge. But when I set aside my opinion to honor Nate, our marriage moved up a notch on the happiness meter.

For example, I used to be frustrated when Nate would interrupt my report of the day with, “Bottom line?”

He meant, how about leaping over all those unnecessary words and giving me the end of the story. For me, the fun was in the telling. I used to think, “I know it’s hard for him to listen so long, but once he knows the details, he’ll be glad he heard them.” It was a shock to learn that wasn’t actually true. But the big question then was, how long did it take me to do what he wanted, to set aside the words and simply give him the bottom line? About fifteen years.

When love is in the house, it shouldn’t take that long.

“Do to others whatever you would like them to do to you. This is the essence of all that is taught in the law and the prophets.” (Matthew 7:12)

God was good to us on September 27, 2003. That’s when Adam Curington became our son-in-law. We weren’t lucky enough to know him from his birth date, but we’ve known him long enough to love him like a son, and today is his birthday.

Adam and our Linnea met while serving in Youth With A Mission. Each traveled the world, both as students and then as leaders, but never worked together. Unbeknownst to them, however, God was busy arranging their lives to one day intersect in an important way. He saw to it they were on the same YWAM trip to India in 2002, and the first story we ever heard about Adam was proof of his character. When Linnea had gotten sick, he’d held her hair back while she vomited. When I heard that, I knew he was quite the man.

After India, the two of them learned they’d each applied to, and been accepted by YWAM’s School of Biblical Studies, an intense nine month focus on the Bible and only the Bible, in Kalispell, Montana. During those months, Linnea and Adam’s friendship grew into something more, and on a remote trail during a mountain snowstorm, Adam proposed.

After marrying in 2003 but then struggling with fertility issues, the two of them were surprised and delighted to receive God’s miracle baby, daughter Skylar Grace, in 2008. She has been a small but mighty addition to the family, and Adam has been a spectacular father despite days when strong-willed Skylar has challenged him beyond what the average parent could bear. But Adam is no average parent. Never have I heard him raise his voice. His extreme patience has set him apart, along with his careful listening skills and evident inner peace.

Adam enjoys being with his wife and child. Baby #2 is due any day, and he looks forward to sharing his love of mountain biking, boating, skate boarding, swimming and mastering computers with his children. He’ll teach them no task is too hard to try and will show them how to tackle challenges in bite sized pieces. They’ll always know family is his highest priority, right beneath his tight relationship with the Lord.

The wisdom he’s gained from walking in daily submission to God is there for the asking, although he forces it on no one. After all the Nymans have voiced their opinions around the dinner table with many words and much animation, we look at Adam, who has patiently waited in thought. Inevitably, in few words, he tosses out an idea that leaves the rest of us wondering why we didn’t think of that.

It isn’t easy marrying into a big, close-knit family of extraverts, but Adam has embraced that challenge with eagerness, winning the approval of Linnea’s four brothers and two sisters. He’s even willing to have his mother-in-law stay under his roof for weeks at a time and has invited my buddy Jack to come along on our next visit. That’s one exceptional son-in-law.

When Nate was sick and all 13 of us were in the cottage together, each night before dinner he would choose someone to pray. He didn’t usually remember who he’d asked the night before, but more often than not, as he looked around the room he’d say, “How about Adam tonight.” Sometimes it would be “How about Adam” three nights in a row. Father-in-law approval ran high.

I will never forget, two days before Nate died, the evening when all of us took turns saying goodbye. When Adam slipped into the chair near the head of the bed, it was natural for him to simply begin talking to God on Nate’s behalf, the most powerful help he could have offered in that moment so close to eternity. His voice didn’t falter as his love poured forth, strengthening Nate and also the rest of us who were listening in.

With all the concerns Nate had as his life narrowed to a close, worrying about his daughter Linnea was not on his list. She was in good hands, and he knew it. I know it, too, and am so thankful for Adam.

“Clothe yourselves with tenderhearted mercy, kindness, humility, gentleness, and patience. Above all, clothe yourselves with love, which binds us all together in perfect harmony.” (Colossians 3:12,14)