I heard you pull the kids together at 7am this morn to run out and get me breakfast #1.

The kitchen and dining room were clean when I woke up and a load of  dipes were  in the wash.

Well fed boys were playing happily on the floor.

You pushed the cart while holding Catcher and keeping track of Tee at the store today.

You brought me breakfast #2.

You put your plans aside to grab me lunch (probably #1)

When I’ve snapped, you’ve ignored it…but not in that , “I’m ignoring you” sort of way.

You chose to give up your tickets for tomorrows golf tourney.

Without a thought you put the kids in their chairs and made them lunch, then cleaned it up.

Then changed dipes and put them down for naps.

You’re finding my butter bell as I type in the back of our off site storage unit.

You’ve sympathized.

You’ve risked getting your head chewed off by asking me if I’m ok, repeatedly.

When I say ice cream sandwich, it appears.

When I gag, the ice cream sandwich disappears.

The boys are well loved on by you.

The boys are in clean dipes, well fed and peacefully sleeping.

I haven’t seen you sit down today.

I know you’re tired too.

I can do this, right?  You always answer that Q as if it’s the first time I’ve asked it.  And it’s not.

My glass of water is always full and cold.

Today your selfless, enduring, steadfast, loving and eager care for me and the boys has reflected Christ in a powerful way.  I want to be like you…esp since you’re not throwing up 🙂