(I will apologize now for the sporadic nature of this letter— I ramble easily about what sets my soul on fire and this topic is nearly first on that list.)
To the man who holds my hand— always.
Do you remember the girl I was when you decided to pursue me? The shattered human who had only a hand full of answers concerning any sense to be made of life.. the abundance of questions— myself too reserved and frightened to ask.
Quite frankly, you faced me (the chaotic mess with a short fuse) head on and never looked back.
You took my fragile, untrusting soul, and directed it not towards your strength, but the strength and love of our Savior. You didn’t try to save me— fix and put my scattered self back together, instead you spoke of truth and the restoring power of our Lord.
It’s been well over a year since you began to learn the ins and outs of my mind. You know how I lost all hope in men, and what shattered my trust. Even then, you pushed me towards truth and encouraged me not to get caught up in self pity.
You pushed me where I needed.
Beyond all of that, you have loved me so strongly.
|Do you remember? That moment in my old van? You and I somehow ended up sharing the seat. The conversation went around the vehicle about hand sizes— each person interjecting their own idea of the perfect hand, while comparing their own with the people around. Palm to palm. I set beside you, working up the courage to compare my hand with yours. Finally I did. Our hands met, the sizes perfect.
|Do you remember the time we first really talked about art? I began to ramble like a fool and you just smiled. Then someone popped a comment about us being so consumed in our own conversation no one else seemed to exist.. I got red and left.
|Do you remember swing dancing in the living room? Time stood still as you and I spun.
Now I know “we” didn’t begin because our hands fit perfectly. It was quite a few years worth of mistakes, growth, joy, pain, change, and waiting before we actually became a thing. There are so many memories I could spout off about the time before we were a couple. Moments I cherish and remember vividly.
But Curly— recently I’ve watched you become a father. I’ve seen the love you have for our little girl. I’ve heard the prayers you pray for her. Those moments years ago are priceless in my memory, but these times— they make this life ours. They build and grow us as a family. They melt my soul and cultivate a joy unlike anything I’ve ever known.
My dear man.
I wanted to thank you for being such an extraordinary human.
Throughout our relationship, I have leaned upon you for so many things. From needing someone to catch my chaotic soul, to help through physical ailments, from a partner in midnight adventures, to now raising a family and having a bedtime.
You’ve taken me as a whole— loving each part actively. Your example of Christlike character is beyond anything I deserve, yet you continue to care for me.
Okay. I’m not saying you’re perfect. I know your flaws. But the way your love helped me heal has impacted my life far more than your flaws.
I’ve felt a lot of pain. I’ve shut out the world and fed the darkness swearing not to trust again. You began to recognize the moments when I’d start to sink, a perfect opportunity to “save” me. Instead, you pointed me towards our Savior. Reminding me of His faithfulness. His love and power. His sovereignty.
We have built a life filled with joy and purpose— but I still have those moments. Times you’ll find me hiding behind the door in our room eating ice cream, your response being the same.. The way you love, darling. I know the credit is due primarily to the Father, but I want to thank you for your determination to glorify Him with this relationship.
My love, the abundant loads of dishes you do, the times you make me amazing baked goods because of my strict diet, the way you take my frustrated bantering, the faith you have in God’s plans, the 12 hour shopping trips you endure, the morning cups of coffee you bring to me in bed, the gentle kisses on my neck, the thoughtful gifts, the prayers I hear you pray when you think I’m asleep, the patience you have when I’m getting ready, the nights you’ll stay up talking even though you’re exhausted, the way you kiss my hand while you’re driving, the songs you sing for me, the endurance you show concerning my constant highs and lows, the gentle nature in which you care for our daughter, and the multitude of other things left off of this list. They don’t go unnoticed.
I don’t say it enough, but I do see it. I see the effort, the proof that the words “I love you” are genuine. I pray one day I can show love the way you do, it’s the truest sense of charity I’ve ever known.
Happy Father’s Day Honey, I love you..
Love, your dreamer.