A Hand to Hold

I remember a time, vaguely, when I thought thirty was so very old. Today, I've been married thirty years. Wow, that is a long time.
I'm appreciative of the example our parents set of commitment. I now recall talking to Handy Man early on about my desire for a marriage to be more than just commitment. I wanted it to be a happy place too. Lots of times it wasn't. I'd challenge you to find two people with more opposite personalities than Handy Man and me. One trait we both shared, thankfully, was a heartfelt desire to do right and to try to find the answers to hard problems. We stumbled on (after much prayer) a technique that's worked very well. We both really try hard to outlove the other one. It works so well because the more one tries, the more the other tries and the result is a whole lotta love. I know how blessed I am, because I've sadly watched as one person in a marriage has tried that, without any help from the other person, and the love eventually runs dry.

I love his hands. I always have. With his hands, Handy Man takes a cherry tree and fashions a cradle to rock our sweet babies (so many cradles now I've lost count). With his hands, he turns scraps of wood into chicken roosts and builds Cluckingham Palace so I can have chickens. With his hands, he tills a spot for my tomatoes. With his hands, he retrieves a dead bird carcas from my bluebird house, so I don't have to. With his hands, he pats his children's backs, moves their furniture, and fixes what is broke at their house, though he never learned to do it from his father. With his hands, he replaces millions of batteries for more toys for grandkids than we had for our own. With his hands, he beats me to the draw and already has the bottle warm so he can rock the baby. With his hands, he has faithfully fashioned steel into molds and kept us warm, dry and fed. With his hands, he is faithful to wipe my tears, rub my back, and make me feel like all is right with my world, no small task. His hands are strong and so much bigger than mine and when I slip my hand in his I feel safe. I do that a lot. Often, I fall asleep, holding his hand.
The Lord was certainly merciful to me, in this helpmate my brother brought home that I fell in love with thirty four years ago this month. I am so very grateful and even more in love.
Happy Anniversary to Us!!!