The Dad Story Project

Encouraging fathers, one heart at a time


adjective ux·o·ri·ous \ˌək-ˈsr-ē-əs
: excessively fond of a wife

Us (I’m the uxorious one on the right).

Of this charge, I happily plead guilty—although “fond” strikes me as a weak verb. I think “joyously devoted” seems a better way to describe it, although in Latin it translates as “gauisus pietus” which seems a bit awkward. I do like the “excessively” part, however. I have been acting excessively toward my beloved Karen for the past 28 years, and we’ve been married almost 33 years. If you caught the little math error, it’s because I didn’t always treat her well. We married very young and things slid quite quickly downhill. Steeply downhill. Miserably downhill. Down toward ruin and certain divorce. With our young son stuck in the middle. And so much of our trouble was my doing. But then, five years into it, God did what he does. He intervened. He intruded. He invaded our lives with mercy and grace and faith, and everything changed. Resentment turned to forgiveness. Selfishness turned to happy sacrifice. Bitterness became sweet again. A dying love began breathing with God’s new life. New life individually and new life together. And things have never been the same.    

“Oh no! Nobody’s going to want to read that sappy stuff!”

Karen Lewis


Nine years ago I started writing a column for my local newspaper.

I write often about my happiest passion—my family.

My dear wife shows up regularly.

So I thought I’d stick all the wife-stories in once place.

And yes, I realize I am a hopeless romantic.

I’ll let you be the judge…

In search of spousal pith

I’ve been married just long enough to know that some decisions should be vetted. For instance, I would never buy a used bulldozer or a box of mallards without my wife’s knowledge and consent. (And yes, you can buy ducks online, just go to So it was with a...

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Sucking up the lady bugs

I could never be single. My wife Karen and I do lots of stuff together. Have for over three decades. We don’t live extravagantly. Can’t afford it. Wouldn’t do it anyway. And so our days are simple and straightforward, ordinary; some might even think them lackluster...

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I’ll bring a side dish

We were all standing around after church a few months ago, sorting out who was going to bring the salad or the baked beans or the pickled woodchuck to the next week's potluck, when I offered, “Hey, I'll bring a side dish.” I had one arm wrapped around the shoulder of...

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Same girl, different couch

My wife had been in what experts refer to as a PVS (Persistent Vegetative State) for several months. By that I mean that each night when I came home from work I knew exactly where she would be in the house, in what position she would be in, and what her state of mind...

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The third aspen on the right

We all want to leave our mark on the world, especially if we’re in love. Sometimes, if there’s nothing pressing to rush home to after work (a leaky faucet, a hole that needs digging), I turn off the quick tar road and meander my way back to the house mostly on dirt....

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My wife: mom on a mission

On my desk at work I have a photograph of my wife, Karen, when she was 20 years old; and on my computer background just a foot to the right is another photograph of her that was snapped after thirty years of marriage — I can’t tell the two images apart. When my eyes...

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Holding on to what we know

Sometimes you just know. We humans think we’re rational and pragmatic; steady, reasoned thinkers building our lives on the bedrock of logic and truth. The world is concrete, knowable; we can write it's substance down in books, post it's realities on the web, give...

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Why the man wore socks to bed

The man drove home from his office, forlorn because he knew his house would be dark and cold and quiet and lonely. His family had scattered. His son had gone off to college, married, and moved to a town and hour away — which was all wonderful and proper, but which...

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A world without double-negative nitrogen

I’ve been writing this little column for over five years now, and just when I think I’ve got nothing left to say, my wife opens her mouth. Like most women, she doesn’t do this intentionally, it just happens. And after three decades, she still cracks me up. I was...

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So many little things

It was a day of little things. I rushed home from work and yanked my car into the driveway only to find the place dark and vacant. As middle-aged men often are, I was befuddled for a few seconds, and then I remembered that my wife was visiting our son’s family and...

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