Looking out the kitchen window I watched my husband walking the path to the pasture and thought to myself “there goes the man with all the keys.”

He has the the key to every door in this house. Front door, back door, French doors and the basement door. He has keys for every building on all our property. The keys to every vehicle, lawnmower, tractor or chained gate we own.

My husband also has keys to my mom’s house and all her properties. He takes care of everything for her. Cuts her grass, fixes anything that needs to be taken care of.

I felt extremely grateful as I was watching this “great holder” walk the pasture path with his pocket full of keys.

The dark black hair that drew my eyes to him when we first met has now slipped almost completely away. Thinned and gray he only has a few strands of dark hair left.

There have been hard days. Lord knows there have been hard years in our marriage. I am not an easy person to live with and he doesn’t communicate about anything but politics and history.

You can’t raise a blended family of four daughters from childhood to teenagers into adulthood without issues.

We both had our own demons we struggled with after our nest was empty. Illness, depression, great heartache and delusion later turned to alcoholism.

When we were young we had a delusion our life together would be beautiful. We worked hard, served God and our children were more important than our own desires. We never dreamed of the heartache we would experience. We never dreamed of becoming alcoholics in our sixties, but it happened.

After all these years in the midst of our struggles he still carries all the keys. There is one key he carries I hope he never ever loses – it’s the key to my heart. In spite of everything he still holds it and I am so thankful it is still a key he has chosen to carry and love.