The Woman of My Dreams

Name droppers. You know the type--can't get through a conversation without giving you their resume and listing the important people they know. I don't really care for their company, and you probably don't either. Still, I hope you don't mind me sharing a little story about a 5 second encounter I had with Nancy Reagan a couple of weeks ago.

I make no secret of the fact that I am a Reaganphile (like many of you). I loved the man. Cried when he died. And I still miss him. He was, in no small part, responsible for me joining the Air Force the first time (way back in 1983). I even sent him a letter telling him so, and he wrote back--real White House letterhead, signature, and everything (unlike the stamped post card I received in reply from a letter I sent the 42nd POTUS). Ronald Reagan was a complex, even elusive man. Even his children express that there was a mystery about his innermost thoughts. Close friends said he was very friendly, but they didn't really know him. But one person did. She knew him like no other on earth, and I got to stand by her and shake her hand. Somebody pinch me--I love the Air Force!

As the photo-op broke up, eveyone walked away rather quickly, since the next group was coming up for a shot (and probably because the Secret Service was eyeballing us pretty good). But I was determined to say something to this remarkable little lady who had Ronald Reagan wrapped around her pinky all their married life. So I reached for her hand and said, "Ma'am, I want to thank you for showing America how to love your spouse." She smiled, demurred, and I walked away really believing what I had just said. Say what you will about the Reagans, but only a fool would doubt that those two were google-eyed in love all their days together. Read the love notes they wrote to each other right up till the end of Ronald Reagan's sanity and you will see they weren't faking it for the cameras.

On the eve of the 16th anniversary of sheer bliss with the woman of my dreams, I only hope I can have a tenth of the Reagan passion for my mate. She rates all of my energy and love. She never bores me. She is my life apart from Christ. I pray the Lord keeps me from making an idol of the lady, because its hard not to. I understand they celebrate Cinco de Mayo in Mexico, yet that light you see in the western sky Friday is not Mexico, but the glow of a grateful husband's heart in central California, celebrating the time of my life with the lady of my dreams.