[God] allowed me to experience personally the truth written by Solomon: "He who finds a wife finds what is good and receives favor from the LORD" (Proverbs 18:22).

I admit it. When it comes to a holiday like Valentine's Day, I am romantically challenged. The clerks at the Hallmark store do not know me by name, and I don't have 1-800-FLOWERS on my speed dial. In my mind, chocolate comes in the shape of a bar wrapped with a Hershey label, not in a heart-shaped box. I am not in the habit of leaving little notes for my wife to find, letting her know that I'm thinking about her. For anyone who knows me—and my wife, Andrea, would know better than anyone—sentimental is not a word that would describe me.

If only my shortcomings were limited to failed Valentine's Day sentimentality and thoughtfulness, I could dismiss them as "just the way I am." The problem, however, is much bigger than that. I have to admit that I fail miserably in regularly expressing my appreciation—both to God and to my dear wife—for the special gift that she is.

This is the woman whom God brought into my life already in high school. He had a plan that this would be the one person in this world who would be the perfect complement to me—the person who would be strong in all the ways that I am weak, wise in all areas that I am dense, skilled in all the things in which I am utterly unequipped. On that day more than 30 years ago, when God joined us together as one, he gave to me the one person who would make my life complete and whole. He allowed me to experience personally the truth written by Solomon: "He who finds a wife finds what is good and receives favor from the LORD" (Proverbs 18:22).

My wife, Andrea, has spent more than three decades proving what a blessing she is. This woman, no matter where we have lived, turned our house into a home. She lovingly lifted me up when I was down, and with the same love, brought me back to earth when I got just a little too full of myself. Her words of wisdom and common sense helped me to see what I was not seeing. She has spent more time raising our four children than I could spend. She taught them to know their Savior, to sing hymns, to pray, and to trust. She single-handedly brought our children to church every Sunday, sitting—and sometimes struggling—alone with them in the pew while I spent Sunday morning in the pulpit or teaching Bible class. She understood that my ministry would leave her at home alone on countless nights and would sometimes take precedence over family plans. She patiently put up with me when I was preoccupied with writing a sermon or dealing with an issue in my work. And on those far-too-many occasions when I needed to say, “I'm sorry. Please forgive me,” she always forgave, always trusted, always believed.