What Remains After the Rubble

This morning I awoke to news concerning a terrible 8.9 earthquake that hit Japan. Today at work in our conference/break room CNN was playing a clip from inside a mall while the earthquake hit. While the camera was panning across the scene there were clothes shaking off of racks, hangings falling off of walls and a couple gripping each other as tight as they could. The shot really got to me.
It reminded me of a story shown during a celebrity fundraiser concerning a Haitian couple. The husband, a gentleman of around his early sixties, had stood near his home begging people to help him dig through the rubble in hopes of finding his wife who was trapped. No one initially agreed because given the shape the house was left in it was highly doubtful that his wife had survived. After a week of doing this he finally found some willing to help. Miraculously his wife had survived, although she was pinned between two walls that had fallen around her. As they were digging her out of the rubble she simply said, "Tell my husband I love him and I am so grateful I was his wife." I cried right there while watching it. On my treadmill. At my overly-packed gym. In fact, I'm tearing up right now thinking about it.
Why is is that these stories get to me? I'm not particularly known for being a softy. I guess it is because deep down I am incredibly grateful for my husband. I laugh whenever people say Justin and I are the perfect couple or that we still haven't gotten out of our honeymoon stage after 2+ years of marriage. Mainly because while Justin is still the perfect, doting husband, I am far from being a great wife. Whenever I get upset or frustrated the poor man has to suffer through it, whether or not he was the cause. Whenever I get into a cranky mood and am critical about everything, the poor guy just sits there while I list off everything that needs to change. Yet amazingly I have never heard one word of criticism from him. I have yet to hear him argue back, as much as sometimes I wish he would. I have married one of the most Christlike men out there. I think the reason those stories get to me is that despite the devastation going on around those couples they turn to each other instead of turning away from each other. While I'm busy being my own emotional hurricane my husband is a saint. Those stories help me remember how incredibly lucky I am to have married such a wonderful man.

There, I'm officially a softy.