I can't do anything

I can't do much of anything.

I tore off the bottom part of a railing that goes down our back steps. I tried to fix it with masking tape. It didn't work. Bern fixed it with a screw, I think.

I can't clean the house up to Bern's standards, so she does.

I can't do yard work up to Bern's standards, so she does it all.

I can take out the trash and recycling and do washing.

Nothing much more.

I feel guilty of my incompetence, though I shouldn't. Bern's standards are just higher than mine.

She is just so much more adroit than I am, it embarrasses me.

She even walks the dog better than I do.

I should look at it this way--I'm lucky to be married to her.

And lucky to do as little as I do.

I can preach and do communion and baptize and marry and bury--and she can't.

At least, at that I'm better.

But I love her so.

For 50 years she's been making my life easy.

What a blessing.