I've often told my husband he's my hero. Like the knight who swoops in and lifts his lady off the ground in a rush of surprise, wonder and excitement, so he did with me over three years ago when we met. I didn't expect him, but there he was. Chock full of all that goodness and love and faithfulness I've come to admire so much.
Heroes are usually the guys that rescue cats from tall trees or run into the middle of oncoming traffic to save a little girl from being hit by a car. They're the people that do these extreme, life-saving (and life-giving) things. They're remembered for all of time because they leave a legacy of self-sacrifice, bravery and a commitment to others. Who's to say, though, that these acts of selflessness have to be so dramatic, so grandiose?
Everyday, I get to wake up next to a man who works hard to provide for our little family. He packs me a lunch for work, making sure to ask me if today's a fruit bar or granola bar day. He humours me when I text him while he's working, sometimes even sending me cute little self-portraits so I remember how much I'm loved. He brings me dinner when I'm at work and sits with me while I complain about crazy hotel guests. He listens to my rants, my dreams, my concerns, my hopes for the future. He makes sure he's on the edge of the sidewalk closest to traffic when we're taking a walk. He massages my neck when I'm sore, even though I know it's not one of his favourite things to do. He changes the duvet cover because it frustrates me to do it myself, and makes us both laugh from our bellies when he grabs me and traps me inside of it. When I'm sick, he takes good care of me. When I'm sad, he lets me cry all over his shirt, and when I laugh, he's right there cracking up with me (and, let's be honest, sometimes at me). He believes in me, sometimes even more than I believe in myself, and he loves me in spite of my weaknesses. He accepts who I am, flaws and all, and he's intentional about being a good spouse. He said goodbye to his home so we could pursue our dreams in a city he's never even seen, and hasn't looked back. He's committed to Jesus, to us, and to His dreams for us.
This man, my friends, is as gold as they come, and without this heart beating next to me, I wouldn't know half of what I now understand of God's incredible, fierce and faithful love.
He leaves a mark on my life every single day and that's why I call him my hero. The past two years have been real and messy and beautiful and amazing, and not a day has gone by where I don't thank the good Lord for this gift I've been given. So to you, my handsome man, Happy Anniversary and thank you for loving me. Your kindness and compassion and faithfulness blow me away.
i love to write. i love the feeling of weaving together words so they create something beautiful, inspiring, thoughtful, significant. i also hate to write because i struggle, i deliberate, i debate, i criticize.
i'm a perfectionist and i need to learn to trust my instincts and my gifts. and somehow embrace the struggle.
so this is why i write. to hold my fluffy white dandelion of creativity & blow it into the wind, watching the tiny, soft petals swirl in the air, landing where they will.
it's a journey, this life. so here's mine.