This husband of mine.

Lately I've been sad about the pain, suffering and sin in this world.  I'm sad for the women trapped in abusive relationships, afraid to tell and seem to see no way out of the dark tunnel. For the unhappy men smothered by contentious wives. For the murdered babies and children born into loveless families and a lost and godless world. For the men, women and children suffering from diseases. For the starving, the homeless, the stray animals, and that lonely, single man riding the RTA at 10:30 on New Years Eve with no family to go home to, or no home call home.

They've been on my heart lately, and I've cried for these people daily. Then I hit my knees and remember that only by grace I am who I am and where I am. And I know I'm blessed.

And in the same breath, I am so happy, so grateful, for who the Lord has given me-- a husband that is so very patient (if I could posses a fraction of his patience I would be a better person) and full of grace (again, me: not gracious when talking to the librarian or when falling). That suffers long, will fight and die for Truth, that is incensed when women and children are mistreated. That comforts me when I think I cannot cry another single tear. I'm grateful that he will never leave--even to the grocery store-- without freshening up, that he'll never leave home in pajamas and that he doesn't even own a hoodie and sweatpants. I'm thankful that he's a detail-kind-of-guy when it comes to cars or remembering a relative we'd forgotten when Christmas shopping, that he has an opinion on the color I paint my toes and dye my hair, how I fix my makeup and the way a belted tunic looks with jeans and my figure. I'm thankful that he's a visionary with the mind to plan ahead without neglecting to trust. I'm thankful that he's a diligent employee, that he feels slothful when he's not working, that he possesses a reputation and skill that can be depended on. I'm thankful that he studies and studies, writes and writes, edits and edits long into the night, not settling for decency but continually striving for excellency. I'm so grateful that difficult things never intimidate him, rather he plunges headfirst. That he never settles. I'm thankful that he persevered and won me. And that I am his.

So, here's to you, Peter McCallum-- my beloved and best friend. Thank you for being all that you are.

-A.H.