I Pray I Don't Forget :: What I Love About My Husband

Sometimes I need reminders in my life. Sometimes I scour the internet trying to have something hit me - touch me in a special way that I am instantly brought back to a time and a place that I love and I cherish and I grin and just melt in the remembrance.

Then real life hits me again, and I forget. So easily, I forget. And then I hate that I forget and then I feel guilty and I look at my phone and I feel guilty and I try to find the thing -- that special post or picture or quote or moment -- that takes me back again. And then I remember. And then I forget.

So maybe it's high time I write it down. Instead of scouring trying to find a stranger who can correctly say all the things I wish I had said all along, why don't I just try to say them myself? Why not? Just once. Just this once.

I married a good man.

He is so, so good.

He loves our children with a passion that makes me smile and melt.

He loves me - not just my body and my butt and my hair and my face (although he loves this things SO much) - he LOVES me. He takes my negative attributes and he makes the best of them. He takes my positive attributes and says Thank you.

He looks up to me for advice. He asks me the best way to take care of our children, he asks me the best way to approach a situation. He sits and looks at me and asks me about my day. He is good.

He does the dishes, often. Is that a thing that makes someone good? I don't know, but it makes me smile. And I am grateful for it, every single time. And that is good.

He makes me coffee nearly every single morning. He wrestles with my daughters in our living room while I sleep soundly along while the coffee brews and the shouts rise higher and higher "Daddy, wrestle me!"

He wipes noses and bottoms and tables and chairs and he cleans up messes and he cleans up and he tidies and he tells me he loves me and he cleans up some more and he tells me to relax and he wipes up some more. And he puts my heart -- my struggling and tired and worried and busied heart - he puts my heart to rest.

He is a good man. A good, good man.

He goes to work and he works. He works his tail off to provide and to give and to bless us with what we need and what we desire.

He, my good husband, he searches. He searches for his passion, day in and day out, and he never gives up on living a life filled with it. He wants to be a man fully alive, a man on fire, a man doing what he was created to do. He desires to be an example for our daughters who will search for the rest of their lives to find their own passions and desires and what makes them glow. He searches and he hasn't stopped. He doesn't let the stagnancy of the world tell him to stop. He doesn't let their words and actions tell him that this life is enough. He wants more. He knows there is more. He knows that he was made for more. And he searches to find exactly that.

He is good.

And I, I am thankful. For the birds that wake me in the morning, for the aroma of coffee that breezes into my room from the kitchen down the hall, for the sound of my children's laughter as they are blessed by their daddy's presence, for my baby girl who eats mashed up carrots made by her father, for a husband that looks me in the eye and tells me to go- to live- to do whatever it is that I want with my life, to live with passion and fervor and an unquenchable thirst for more. I'm thankful for him.

He is a good, good man.

Just this once. I pray I don't forget.