My Little Phalanx

My dad has a name for my mom. He calls her his little phalanx. Now if you’re unschooled in the battle formations of ancient Greece, that may sound a little strange. In fact, even if you are schooled in Greek battle formations, that may sound like a pretty unusual thing for a man to call his wife. Nonetheless, it is my mother’s name and she loves it.

A phalanx is a tight battle formation that would prevent attacks from behind, allowing the warriors to focus all their energies on what lay directly ahead. They didn’t have to worry about who might be sneaking up from behind because they knew their fellow warriors had their back.

For those of you who are still wondering where I find romance in that statement, allow me to remind you that love is more than that “can’t eat, can’t sleep, reach for the stars, over the fence, world series kind of stuff.” Love is standing in the gap for someone when all your heart feels like doing is retreating. Life is a battle that we must fight to win, and when I think of spending that battle with someone at my side, I want him to be the kind of person who covers my back.

Who named Prince Charming? And what kind of knight can go through battle and emerge with shining armor? I’m telling you to give me a pirate, give me Rambo, give me the little boy who can’t seem to stay out of the mud. I’m looking for the guy in that famous Teddy Roosevelt quote – the one who strives valiantly in the arena, his face marred with dust and sweat and blood. I’m looking for the guy who knows what it is to sacrifice… and is still willing to sacrifice. I want to marry the kind of man who will call me his little phalanx.

He doesn’t have to be charming, and his armor doesn’t have to shine; he simply has to be the kind of man I can happily dedicate the rest of my life to fighting alongside.

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