Skip to main content

My Hero ~ My Hubby


"Did you know you are my hero?"  I asked my husband this morning.  He said, "Your silly."  

Hero status does not involve a cape or a tight costume.... 

Hero status that I've dubbed on my husband doesn't mean he is perfect.  He is not.

Hero status doesn't mean that he is always easy to live with...he is not.  Just like I am not.


My husband is my hero because he is:

Faithful.
Dedicated.
Steadfast.
Silly.
Fun.


He is also my hero because:

He tears up coming home from our college son's football game.
He laughs and teases our youngest.
He learns to make a new sheath for my son's new knife.
He runs upstairs when I come home with groceries to help me carry in.
He tells my boys, "turn it down," when he knows a show will upset me.
When I say, "Good night and I love you," down the stairs to the boys...he tells them to "tell your Mom you love her."
He tells his boys, "Throw your Mom a bone once in a while," which means it doesn't take much to thrill your Mom.
 

Finally, he is my hero because:

He works a very difficult job full time to provide of his family in addition to being a Pastor.
He keeps working even though he is not treated well or appreciated.  
He keeps working even though he is underpaid and unrecognized at the hospital.
He is an amazing teacher and can take a complicated concept and break it down so anyone can understand.
He is always learning.  Reading the classics, philosophy, literature, theology and how to make knives.
He prays with me.
He encourages me to go and be and do without holding me back.
He pushes me forward.  I had always wanted to get my Pastoral License but our community frowned and he encouraged me to follow my call.
He believes in me.
He believes in our boys.



Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Starting a Journey

September 3, 2010 Originally posted How to Begin a Journey 1. Pick a destination or simply start. 2. Plan a detailed itinerary or just take the first step. 3. Pack everything or travel lightly. I am choosing to just begin. To leave behind the baggage, pick up a day pack, and go. Several nights before we moved to Ogallala, I was praying about the transition when I heard that still, small voice of God. In that moment, I knew He heard my Heart's Cry. He hears every whispered plea, every unspoken longing. If I truly sit with that truth, it humbles me. What courage, boldness, passion, and decisiveness I have when I remember: He never leaves or forsakes me. He provides for my every need according to His riches in glory. My hope is to encourage you He hears your Heart's Cry too.

1940 Canned Apple Butter: Family Root Cellar

I loved exploration as a child.  From opening the door and going down the stairs to get something from my Grandma's root cellar or exploring old homesteads while checking cows.  I credit my Mom with teaching us to appreciate those things that represented the people who had gone before us. When I moved with my husband and boys to a house on the family ranch-I began exploring immediately.  This was the house my Aunt and Uncle lived in during my childhood.  My Grandparents had lived there and many other families dating back to 1900 when it was built.   With two little boys in tow, I made my way to the root cellar and found a treasure cove.  Old text books belonging to the original family who had been a teacher, the original medicine cupboard, tools, trash and memorabilia.   I felt like an archeologist sifting through layers of debris representing generations and culture.  And I was.  I hauled truckloads of trash to the dump (some...

Diabetes-Opened to Disease OR Open to Connecting to my Strengths

I've tried living in denial for two years after the big D diagnoses was handed over.  Honestly, I just don't want to talk about it.  Outwardly seemly calm and disconnected from it.  Inwardly terrified. As a plant that is stressed is open to disease, injury and death so to our bodies are.  I opened myself up to this.  Stress, lack of sleep, bad nutrition, overweight and lack of exercise.  For some reason I believed that if I ran fast enough and worked hard enough, I would outrun my family genes.  The tiny room in the back of my brain locked with a key has kept the fear of this disease at bay even though I could hear its screaming when life quieted down. My Aunt died piece by piece to this disease.  First a heart attack and quadruple by-pass.  Then a toe.  Next a foot.  Legs came next along with more heart attacks.  Kidneys shutting down.  She died very young. When I was little, my Aunt Ally gave herself s...