Wednesday, February 1, 2012

An early Valentines.

"This is the way you woo me, with a love letter that has a strong back and thick hands, that work the long hours and find mine in the night. And has a heart that keeps its promises and holds its tongue and would die for me and the kids. What is there left to say? You use no paper and yet you write volumes. Love needs few words--it only needs will. The words that matter most are the ones that we live and you teach me how to write a love letter. The best love letters are the ones simply breathed, lived and laid down with a life. You spend your days speaking these silent words with a gravity that keeps me in orbit and your steadfastness warms me to life and a Living God. There isn't enough ink in this world to express my thanks and especially my love.

Love is the only education that matters. And it’s what you’ve taught me with these rings and these vows that have shaped me—

That you can’t wonder why love’s wearing thin when you’re wearing a thick layer of self.

There is no such thing as 50-50. There’s only giving more and being more happier. Fair and equal is an illusion. The only reality is relationship and this is what Christ lived and died. This changes everything.

What does it matter if we never have a vacation or see the Grand Canyon or if the van rusts right through or if the mattress springs sag to the floor like an old mare given out?

We don’t have to try to arrive anywhere or climb anything or try to figure out how to make it –

Just make our lives a living sacrifice and let the days makes us like gold, to arrive before His throne.

The luxury of simply, lavishly growing old with you, all the messy, magnificent days adding up to years – I don’t know if He will ever give this and it’s His alone to give –

But every day is one day more and each sunrise is one day older and what if we were done with missing out on whatever we have right now?

If the highest love gives the best gift – is the best gift the gift of the everyday?

The everyday asking and listening and picking up your socks and saying nothing and rubbing your back and laying out fresh towels and smiling more because this is what you like that best. That our life together makes me happy and you can see it, how my eyes dance.

Everyday washing your stubble out of the sink and everyday sitting beside you and everyday saying nothing but leaning over and touching your hand.

It doesn’t matter how our love started or has stumbled – only that it keeps growing. This, by grace, we can do everyday. The way love grows older everyday….

The way the days join us again at the hip and at the rib and at the heart…"


Bits and pieces stolen from an author who write more with her life than her hands. I read these phrases from her recent posts and saw my husband's face. He is a quiet man. One of very few words. At one time this aggrivated me.....because I am one of so many. Too many. He is not the biggest romantic but his heart bleeds love. How do I know? He tells me with his life. The many times at night I tiresomly walk to the baby's room to nurse and I turn around and my husband is there. Just to be there. He is tired and needs sleep before 5:00 am--but he sacrifices this. The many, many times we are in a crowd and I can search for his face and when I find it, he's already looking at me. The way he comes home covered in mud and dragging those heavy boots. The days I didn't find a moment to spend a little extra time on myself and he compliments me the most. The way he comes home and gives every last minute before bed to these needy little children. Every last minute; because he knows it's crucial and doesn't take it lightly. The way he rolls up his sleeves and washes the dishes. The way he comes home with hard work stained hands and comments on how hard I've worked that day. The way my coffee is ready every morning with an empty mug sitting there. The way his bible is always open on the table when I walk through the kitchen in the mornings. A man who lays down his life, continually, to give better later. This is his love letter to me. I don't get a dozen roses every day--or diamond earrings every Valentines. Nor do I get a long, mushy love letter every morning....but I don't need these things for he has given me more. His life. His time. His unconditional love. A man who speaks more with his eyes than his mouth. The ring he placed on my finger means more to me now than I ever could have imagined seven years ago. He means more to me now than I ever could have imagined. A man who lays down their life for their bride---and through this woos his bride to this overwhelming love and makes her desire the same. A life of sacrifice? Count me in. For it is in this you will find your life and a love you could not find any other way.

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