This morning at church I found myself staring at my husband's hands. I LOVE his hands. No, they aren't perfect or those of a some kind of hand model. But I love them for no special reason and a thousand different reasons all at the same time.
They are the hands that tirelessly knead out the knots in my back and neck, asking for no return back rub.
They are the hands that deliver me the perfect cup of coffee every morning as we begin our day.
They are the hands that wrestle with our sons, or build Lego's with them or hold them tenderly when they need "daddy time."
They are the hands that mow and keep our beast of a yard, which requires so much more time than we ever imagined.
They are the hands that pitch in to fold clothes, unload the dishwasher or push a vacuum.
They are the hands that reach high things for me and open those lids that are freakishly tight.
They are the hands that text me during the day just to say "Hi" or "I love You."
They are the hands that are often folded in prayer for his family, his church, his buddies (who he is "Band of Brothers-esque" loyal to).
They are the hands that I truly believe God made to hold mine as we journey through this thing called life.
And this week, these very hands have loved me and served me for 10 wonderful years. Happy Anniversary to the love of my life, who is hands down the best man I know!