33. Love my husband everyday.
Our love looks different every day, doesn’t it? Maybe that’s why Paul gave it so many words. I can hardly manage patience and kindness and holding my tongue all at the same time, but I hold onto grace in each moment and know love covers it all. This is supposed to be about me loving you and I just keep falling back to how you love me.
When the snow blows hard over the road, they say it’s a ground blizzard. Your tail lights keep growing smaller in the distance as I follow you. You drive faster than I want to but I keep up, trusting. Tired, scared, I can’t talk to you on the phone or the tears and fear take over. But you know these roads and you know me and you believe in me better than I do.
The harsh words boil over and pour out and I wonder which grandparent’s stubbornness is showing in me today. It runs real deep and it’s hard to shake. But I know you’re right. I can’t look at you and I don’t want to talk to you and you always manage to make me laugh when I’m mad and do you know how maddening that is? You look at me and your grace and patience wash over me and the joy I feel for you just can’t help but bubble out.
When I’m feeling a little sorry for myself, wondering if you notice what I do, if you notice me, if you see me for who I am and you walk through that door. Gifts aren’t either of our primary languages, but so much love spills out of that bag of dark chocolate-covered pretzels you have for me you don’t even know. A little bag full of surprise love and grace. My favorite.
You’re my favorite.