The Little Things

It's the way he moves the potted tulips to the sunlight during the day.

It's the way he wipes down the counter.

It's the way he always cooks my fried egg a little longer.

It's the way he holds my hand when we pray.

It's the way he kisses me when we're done praying.

It's the way he opens the door for me.  Everytime.

It's the way he meticulously dries the dishes.

It's the way he makes the bed because he knows I feel better when it's made.

It's the way he closes the shower curtain because, as silly as it may seem to anyone else, he knows it matters to me.

It's the way he takes out the garbage. Every week.

It's the way he dances a little bit after the first bite at dinner.

It's the way he greets me when I walk through the door.

It's the way he loves people.  Without reservation, without pretense, without agenda.


It's all these little things and it's all these big things and it's things that can't be put into words and it's things that aren't even things at all.  This man has captured my heart.

May I never take this gift for granted.



Tweet