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How do I honor a women who after over fifty year of married life one day hears the doctor say, “Your husband’s memory loss is serious and will, most likely, not improve.”?  The woman’s life has not been fifty years of heaven on earth, but neither has it been hell.  In fact, the wife’s memory bank is full of happy events, God’s love, and joyful periods of emotional stability.  She has loved the man who had swept her off her feet during her early twenties, and has frequently described him as the man of her dreams, her knight in shining armor, and the man with whom she wants to spend eternity.  She gets goose bumps when listening to Celine Dion sing, “I am your lady, and you are my man.”  But, now, the future has taken on a grey horizon, with darkening clouds beginning to form, and the final torment in the wings.

I know her, have known her for decades.  I think highly of her, and my wish for her is that she sense the honor that is her due.  But, how can I get that wish to her?

I know what I will do.  First, in my own mind, I will give her a name, nothing like the name she has borne since birth.  I will think of her as Maggie.  Then, again in my own mind, I will link Maggie to a particular song in which she is the wife, the kind of woman, any noble man would die for.  Then, I will find four Celtic men to make an arrangement of the song, and put it on an album to be heard all over the world.  And then, any man who hears the song will say, “That woman, Margaret, is the kind of wife to whom I will give my life” and any woman who hears the song will say, “That woman, Maggie, is who I want to be.”

And, finally, I will refer to the song in my blog, and wonder if Maggie will ever read it.  Will she listen to the song, and realize how much I honor her for taking care of her Dutchman.  Yes, that is what I will do for Margaret, whose life revolves around loving God and family, but about whom most likely no one has ever composed a song.

So, to Maggie, this is for you. And, Maggie, do me the favor of clicking http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8MH51zH638o to listen to The Celtic Thunder’s “The Dutchman”. The lyrics are the following:

The Dutchman’s not the kind of man To keeps his thumb jammed in the dam That holds his dreams in.  But that’s a secret that only Margaret knows. . . . When Amsterdam is golden in the morning Margaret brings him breakfast, she believes him. He thinks the tulips bloom beneath the snow . . . He’s mad as he can be But Margaret only sees that sometimes.  Sometimes she sees Her unborn children in his eyes

Let us go to the banks of the ocean Where the walls rise above the Zuiderzee.  Long ago, I used to be a young man But dear Margaret remembers that for me

The Dutchman still wears wooden shoes His cap and coat are patched with the love That Margaret sewed him . . .  Sometimes he thinks he’s still in Rotterdam . . . He watches tug-boats down canals And calls out to them When he thinks he knows the captain’ Til Margaret comes to take him home again . . . Through the unforgiving streets that trip him Though she holds his arm.  Sometimes he thinks he’s alone and calls her name.

Let us go to the banks of the ocean Where the walls rise above the Zuiderzee Long ago, I used to be a young man But dear Margaret remembers that for me.

Windmills whirl the winter wind She winds his muffler tighter, they sit in the kitchen Some tea with whiskey keeps away the dew . . . He sees her for a moment, calls her name.  She makes his bed up singing some old love song She learned it when the tune was very new . . . He hums a line or two They hum together in the night The Dutchman falls asleep And Margaret blows the candle out.

Let us go to the banks of the ocean Where the walls rise above the Zuiderzee Long ago, I used to be a young man But dear Margaret remembers that for me.

Be blessed, Margaret.  Many people love you, and no one more than your Dutchman.