In Which I Sing the Praises of my Husband

You want to know what I think? I think much of the world has up and forgotten what it is that truly makes a man attractive. Movies and skewed Hollywood ideals have twisted the truth –tempted us to think it’s a certain look or a certain job or a certain amount of money that makes a man worth keeping around.

But my perspective isn’t skewed.

See, I have this man in my life.



I’m going to talk about him for a bit. I hope you don’t mind. See, I’m a little in love with this man. Or maybe a lot in love with this man. Or maybe so in love that I spend as much time as possible simply being where he is. (Unless he’s in the bathroom. Then I leave him alone. I mean, even lovers need privacy sometimes.) Ten years into this whole marriage thing, I still get all fluttery with anticipation when I know he’s almost home, or when I see him walking towards me with that, “You KNOW I’m going to kiss you” look. I love that look.

I love this man for many reasons.

But pretty much, it’s just the kissing.

But here lately, I’ve been loving him because of prayer. And kissing.

While camping with our extended family over Labor Day Weekend, Lucy woke up in the middle of the night feeling sick. Squeezed into a small tent, snuggled in between two sleeping brothers, she was sick. Sick ALL. OVER. EVERYWHERE. There are few sounds more disturbing. Josh and I scrambled to get to the kids’ tent, hoping against hope that we’d heard wrong. (We hadn’t.) Moments later, Ivy woke up and I retreated back to our tent to feed her and keep her quiet, leaving Josh to deal with the mess on his own. And oh, was it a mess. I listened sympathetically (I was secretly so very grateful the baby woke up. But don’t tell him that.) as he tried to rectify the dismal circumstances in the tent next door. With baby wipes and a water bottle, two salvageable sleeping bags and a few extra blankets, he managed to get everyone cleaned up and resettled. And then, do you know what he did? He prayed. At 2 AM, in a smelly tent, with four smelly kids, he took the time to pray with them – for their comfort and peace through the rest of the night. I listened quietly, humbly, knowing had I been the one to handle the situation it would have progressed much differently – with more grumbling, more groaning, perhaps even tears and muttered cursing. 

To pray at night before bed, and perhaps when you wake up in the morning is just fine. But I am so grateful that this man in my life is a man that talks to God more frequently than that. I’m certain it is this willingness to communicate with the Lord that helps him be so remarkable in all the other things that he does. (Except maybe the kissing. Does prayer really help with that?) 

As I reflect on this man, and try desperately not to make this post ridiculously sentimental, I find myself, more than anything, just wanting to be a little bit better. Do I call upon the Lord as much as I should? Do I truly communicate with Him sincerely? Deeply? In this way, I want to be more like this man of mine.

How does your spouse or significant other inspire you?