Hidden within the folds of my crazy, busy days, that thread shimmers with reminders of what love really is.
It is strong enough to weather unexpected yanks of grief and the relentless pull and stretch that is required to heal from great loss.
It is loose enough to allow me the freedom to be the authentic me. I don't have to pretend to be anything or any way other than who God made me to be. The freedom to be the person you really are at your core is a precious gift.
He takes delight in the smallest accomplishment of my day.
Accustomed to encouraging others all day,
it is especially edifying to be the recipient of cheers and smiles
for even the smallest of things.
He is appreciative of every little thing I do.
Every little thing.
He knows what I look like when a headache is stalking me and actually notices when I look that way.
He pays attention.
He never, ever fails to offer caffeinated beverages,
ice packs and compassion even though those migraine monsters
attack for days at a time.
I have never once caught him rolling his eyes
or heard so much as a hint of irritation in his voice
when he comes home to find me in bed
with an ice pack covering my eyes.
His smile is famous and his boisterous love of life is endearing.
It seems as if he knows everyone in the neighborhood and we can't go anywhere without seeing someone he knows.
He makes me laugh every single day and
I still look forward to hearing him walk through the door after work.
He makes my tea when the pitcher is empty,
hangs my clothes up fresh from the dryer,
buys me Diet Dr. Pepper and
knows that I cannot look him
in the eyes when I am angry with him.
He works like a dog and plays like a kid.
He has made me a happier, more relaxed person.
The grand babies are going to love hanging out with him.
He loves our children.
All five of them plus the one God gave us when our oldest married him.
He takes pride in the character and achievements of all of our kids
and sees the good inside each one.
He is calm and patient with screaming grand babies
and teenage girls.
He is good to my extended family and doesn't think they are as weird as I do.
Just kidding about the weird.
But then again, he doesn't think I am as weird as they do.
Not kidding about the weird.
He tells me that all families have crazy times, crazy relatives and crazy habits. But he admits that I win the contest for the craziest redneck relative.
He lets me blame him for pretty much anything from acts of nature to unpleasant dog odors just because he lets me blame him.
He lets me sleep on his shoulder for the two or three minutes it takes
until I need my space or
I need to straighten the sheets
or rearrange pillows or
I need to breath my own air.
Everyone knows that he is a sucker for
little ones,
animals
and his family.
I tell him that he is kind hearted
and sweet and he tells me not to tell anyone.
He knows my secrets and has remained.
At times amused and probably disturbed
by the inner workings of a mind like mine
he has remained.
Surely often befuddled by my...
lets just call them moods.
No, let's call them justified moods.
Whatever we call them...
he has remained.
He is compassionate, gentle and forgiving.
He has loved me through the moodiness, anger and devastation of grief.
He was already there when I turned to run to him blinded by my tears and deafened by my sadness.
He was already there because he was paying attention.
He is my best friend, an answer to my prayers and I
thank God for him every single day.
Who needs Valentines Day when you are loved like this everyday
Just sayin'.......
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