A Little on Love and Those Hands

Dear Girls,

As Valentine's Day approaches, it occurred to me that I haven't really written about my marriage.

The truth is, after almost three years of marriage and eight years together I'm still totally smitten.  (That means I still get butterflies in my belly whenever I see my honey.  I know...yuck, right?!)

But he still makes my heart skip a beat when I see him pull in after work, because I've been waiting all day to be with him again.  We giggle together often like a couple of kids because he's my best friend.  Our monthly date nights are what I look forward to the most...time uninterrupted with my sweetheart.  We totally delight in grossing you kids out with a kiss or a pat on the butt or a wink across the room.  We're pretty good at it, aren't we? :-)

But, Dad and I have been to hell and back together.  Such is to be expected I guess when you've spent the last eight years growing up side by side.  We've overcome ridiculous obstacles (many self-inflicted), battled addictions (still do), dealt with betrayal and then forgiveness, been to the edge of destruction (a few times), and spent the first year of our marriage being shaken up and emptied out as God grabbed ahold of us.  We have fought like crazy to make this thing work, and what can be seen today is the outcome of many bloody battles we fought both for each other and, sadly, against each other. But today, I love our love story.  It's been totally worth it.  True, we took the long way to get where we are but...here we are!

So the other day he commented on the condition of his hands.  He called them "old-man hands".  (Remember?)  They're dry and damaged from working in the cold weather.  They're calloused and cut and hard.   He complains often about his hairline and the spot on the crown of his head where his bald spot is hair used to be more plentiful.  So many times he has lamented the fact that he just doesn't look seventeen anymore.

And yet.

I still can't get enough of him!

He earns a living for us with those hands.

He holds our family up to God with them.

Countless numbers of his little girls' tears have been wiped away with those hands, and just this week?  Not once but twice, I woke up to him brushing the hair out of my face, whispering that it's a snow day and he made me coffee and how did I sleep and how do I feel.  Oh those hands!  He uses them to serve me by doing the dishes or laundry I've neglected.  Or hold my hand whenever we're in arm's reach of each other.  Or cook us breakfast on a Saturday morning.  Or play "Bob" or "Zombies" or to tickle you half to death.

But really?  It's the heart that guides those hands that turns me to mush.

His heart is a servant heart, and it is obvious to everyone around him that he loves to serve his family.

And our two hearts are connected by so many different strands.  Strands made up of all the magical moments, the everyday moments, and even the hard stuff...because if it didn't separate us, it was bringing us closer together.  Seems to me you just don't get any closer than we are.

See, it's a hard thing, this life.  And it can be really hard to love while trying to weather the storms.  He makes it so easy.  And I am so blessed. 

Baby, if you're reading this?  I love you.  Thank you for loving me so well.  (And for the record...I think you're hotter today than the seventeen-year-old boy you once were!)

And girls...loving someone isn't about what they look like or how they make you feel.  It's about finding a person who truly loves your soul and wants what's best for you.  Who's willing to fight for you.  Who is willing to team up with you and God to hold the line no matter the cost.  

Today, and every day, I'm praying for you and your future spouse.  That you might find (a little sooner than me) what it's like to truly love.

Love,

Photo // Death to Stock