My arms were full as I juggled too many grocery bags at once. It was my attempt at not having to make too many return trips to the car in the Texas heat. It was then, while fiddling for my keys when I looked down and noticed them. And I smiled.
That was his intention. He does things like that. He planted flowers to surprise me.
I have known my husband thirty-four years and quite honestly, I can’t think of a single hurtful or negative thing he has ever said to me. He is hardworking, honest, generous, wise, and loving. He is so many good things. He has a sweet and gentle spirit about him, and he doesn’t feel the need to fill silence with words. My husband is organized and disciplined and pretty much all the things I’m not.
A simple “thank you” seems so inadequate when I thank God for this sweet man in my life. A man who is sad when I’m sad, who loves to spend time with me, who will work out twice so I won’t have to go alone. He is someone who compliments and encourages and who truly believes I can do anything if I try. He fills my life with so much love and makes me feel safe.
But it’s the little things he does that mean so much. The impromptu slow dance in the kitchen in our pajamas, the excitement in his voice when he shares of a Bible study he listened to while jogging, the appreciation of pretty much every little thing I do. I love how his eyes tear up when he talks about his children and grandchildren and how he fills our home with beautiful creations made by his own hands. A labor of love.
What most touches my heart is the comfort of his hand as he rests it on my arm at the end of the day, right before I drift off to sleep. I feel the warmth settle in as he keeps it there for a few minutes, and I know that I am being silently prayed for during that time.
My throat still tightens when I try to find the words. Thankfully, God knows my heart and “thank you” is enough.