Monday’s are typically the time when I take a moment, coffee in hand, to reflect on the great mystery of a man and a woman in love. Particularly the blonde-headed sweet soul who fell in love with this typing, brown-haired woman with coffee in hand and silly stories always in her heart. Ahem, yours truly.
Over the last few weeks I’ve grumped, grumbled and groused my fair share and yet, yet, I am still loved tremendously. A few days ago my husband met me at the car and complained about having to go home “with the wet blanket
(me). He was referring to the earlier conversation where I had pecked him to death over a matter I wouldn’t let drop. He was tired. Tired after a long ten hour shift and even more tired of the cloudy-acting woman he called wife.
But he still played with me.
He still loved me.
And, he was still coming home to me.
I’m so thankful God led me to someone who is gentle when I am weak, life-giving when I am drained and faithful when I am not. We wives often put our husbands on pedestals and expect them to be fully perfected and sanctified then fuss when we discover our men are still merely men.
Instead, I encourage us to be thankful for the small, every-day acts of divine love they give us. Rejoice in the gift of his goodwill, enjoy his laughter, and give thanks for his being there … even on your wet blanket days. 😉
With love, blessings and coffee,
photo credit belongs to my sweet friend, Amelia.