From an article originally posted December 7, 2012…

I remember the first years of marriage being a struggle because I had such unrealistic expectations of what marriage was supposed to be. The world jades us and causes us to create idols of what true love is.

What romance is. Very little of service, sacrifice, and kindness is portrayed in love stories we have been fed. Jason had a much more clear understanding of love than I did. Plus, his personality is gentle and giving. From the start, he knew romance, in its true form, was simple service and kindness.

A friend of ours was visiting and we were all on a blanket reading. She noticed Jason look at me. He noticed my glasses were dirty; he took them off me and cleaned them and then replaced them. She said it was such a touching moment for her, that she saw such love in his action.

I rarely get flowers, but guess what? I don’t miss them. Reader, I am loved in such bigger ways than that. Every morning my man brings me a cup of coffee made just right. I can’t even tell you how I like my coffee. I like my coffee how Jason makes it. He brings it to me in the chair where we read our Bibles side by side and talk through life’s concerns. Every chemo I had amazing daytime nurses, but only one hunky night nurse. I would wake up, tell my symptom, and my dear night nurse would know just how to care for me. Some nights he was up four or more times. Jason has taken the helm of bedtime, bath time, most all discipline and household chores, on top of caring for me, without complaint. He loathes the tooting of his horn that I do here, but I feel strongly that he can really help men in his example.

My mentor and prayer partner asked me to send her this picture.

She sent this beautiful email to her daughters who are planning a wedding:

It will be easy and fun to get carried away by dresses and luncheons and flowers and such in coming months. So I take this opportunity to share with you a picture of a HUSBAND ... Jason Tippetts painting Kara’s nails as she began her last chemo last week. It’s the raw meat reality of life and there that love counts and it’s a snapshot of what I long and pray for each of you to have in a husband.

love, mom

One day I will go into detail how I can see how many marriages don’t make it through such a trial as cancer. I don’t want to portray a false reality to this very hard season we are facing. But today, I agree with my friend—love counts in the raw meat moments of marriage when very little is reciprocated. Very little of what the world calls love has found its way to Jason in these past months, but his love has only increased, not withdrawn. He has seen me at my most ugly and still calls me beautiful. Bald, dark eyed, unable to stand, sick beyond sick, and yet he is still fond of me. He loves me from a place much deeper than what the world calls love. My guy knows Jesus well. He understands unconditional love like no one I have ever met. He drinks deeply from the One who loves him best, and from that place he is able to love beyond his own strength. That is truly the source of Jason’s ability to love with such grace, humility, and sacrifice.​