Wednesday, May 6, 2015

His Hands

"For even when we were with you, this we commanded you, that if any would not work, neither should he eat."
2 Thessalonians 3:10

"But if any provide not for his own, and specially for those of his own house, he hath denied the faith, and is worse than an infidel." 
1 Timothy 5:8

     Yesterday, I took a glance at Dear's hands.  One in particular concerned me.  I thought I had seen a large splinter in his hand, or sliver of metal.  However, to my partial comfort, it was a blood blister.  
     Seeing that blister, seeing his face as he watched me look over his hand, and realizing how hard he works to take care of us, filled my heart with love and respect.  I cannot even type out this account, without getting a lump in my throat.  I have a God-fearing man.
     Are there days in which he wished he did not have to work so hard?  Sure.  Yet, because of the integrity God has put into his heart, he works; and, he does so thankfully...gladly.  He comes home with bumps, bruises, scars, wounds, blisters, dirt, and love in his heart.
     He has his tough days.  Working where he does, as he does, means that there are days that he just needs me not to ask how his day went:  seeing his face, says it all.  A hug does much more than an inquiry.
     Seeing his work ethic, his heart for our Lord, and his heart for us, propels me to serve him...Oh, so gladly!  Yes, there are days in which I am selfish, and lazy.  Yet, when I see his hands, I just want to serve him.
     What about the days I do not pay attention to his hands?  What about the days wherein he allows his fleshly nature to be dominant, rather than the Spirit?  Do I still want to serve him?
     Honestly, there are days that I do not want to serve him.  That is just the Renee-in-the-flesh-honest-truth.  Yet, when I listen to the Lord, and remember who Dear is to me, it becomes easier, once again, to serve him.  I mean, after all, he still goes to work, for me, when he does not feel like it; or, when I am unlovely.
     Oh, my precious man.  My man, with those rough, strong, loving hands.  How I love him.

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