Wednesday, September 14, 2011

My Beloved

With one hand lifted high to heaven, and the other resting on the small of my back - he worships. With his palms he praises. With reverence and awe, he stands. And while doing this - he steadies me.

This man, this God-seeker, this worshiper - wears the wedding band that matches mine.

And when I see it there - up in the air - giving praise and gratitude and worship to the Father - thankfulness explodes.

Just typing this, tears form.

My husband is a man, changed. A man, transformed. A man taken, smitten, in love with Love Himself. And it shocks me. Startles me. Crumbles me to gratefulness.

To lay beside a man each eve who worships - this is grace.

I know where he's come from, and he, I. And our love is all the more because of this.

Even more....he knows where I still am. Where I still toil and struggle and sneer - and he pours on love even more in the uprisings of these weaknesses.

To rest next to the one who rests in Him - oh what a safe place. Under his wing.

His prayers over me cover me. And our babes see it. And they too have learned to come and place hands on head and bow in reverence and send prayers up lofting from sweet young lips. Because their Daddy has taught them so. And isn't this just right?

To the one I wed....

It's not lost on me.

The way you strive and the way you care and the way you love  - I see.

In the midst of madness - in the midst of toddler cries and five year old fits and broken toilets and burnt dinners and dwindling bank accounts and worries wafting from a weary wife and....oh, I see a man of calm tenderness.

And it nourishes me.

For you - and all you are, and all you attain to be, and all your pure love, and all your never-ending patience, and all your working, and all your providing, and all your faith lived out....I am a bride who is in love, yes....but I am a broken bride made a bit more whole

Like an apple tree among the trees of the woods, so is my beloved among the sons....
Song of Solomon 2:3