A Spring of Joy

I finally opened up Asher’s lunchbox to clean it out on Sunday (yes, you read that right… it sat for 2 days with dirty spoons and leftover food), and I found his napkin still there. Then I sat right down in the middle of the floor and wept, because my Brian had written this on Asher’s napkin: “I love you, big guy. Have a good day. Dad.”

I wept because that’s what I do every single day. I write notes on Asher’s lunch napkin and tell him I love him and that I’m praying for him and that I’m proud of him. And Brian knew. He knew how important that is to me and to Asher. And I found my hubby and I said, “Thank you.” Then I fell into his arms and cried like I thought it would never end.

I wept because God has given me an amazing man who may not keep the house picked up like I would want it to be when I’m gone, but he makes sure our children are cared for and loved.

This is the man who left work early to drive me to the hospital, make sure I was settled, advocate for me when they wanted to take blood and wouldn’t listen to my refusals, and then he kissed me goodbye so he could go take care of the kids. He found places for them to stay, fed them and jammied them, drove them where they needed to go, and then drove back to the hospital. He sat with me for two hours just to be with me, and we snuggled in my big hospital bed and shook our heads at this crazy turn of events.

This is the man who made phone calls and scheduled play dates, who picked kids up and brought them for visits, who has lived off of pizza and sandwiches and fast food for the past five days, providing for us the best he could. He has gotten kids dressed and taken them to school and church. He has taken them all to Cub Scouts events, packed lunches, and pulled Bella’s hair back in makeshift pony tails. He’s worked out in the yard and grilled steaks for Spring so we could have our traditions.

He’s done all this, yes. And so much more.

I don’t weep because of all he does, although it overwhelms me. I don’t weep because he doesn’t complain. (I’m not exaggerating here, y’all. In the past 2 1/2 years, I have never once heard him complain about our life.) I don’t weep because of the lines on his face; the fatigue that bends him over and drives him to exhaustion. They are part of the weeping to be sure.

I weep because he has never lost sight of what’s important.

He makes sure we all know how very loved we are.

I weep because of his love. For me. For the children.

I weep because he is the very picture of Christ.

I weep because in this crazy life, I see the goodness God has given me every day.

I weep because I have Brian.

The love.

And I am amazed at God’s goodness to me.