My Beloved's Hands

"Not so good." That was my husband's response last night when I asked him how his day was as he walked in the door.

My husband is a contractor by trade; he is a hard worker; he loves what he does; and he cares about the people for whom he works.

My husband is not the "sit inside at a desk" kind of guy. He likes to be out and about nailing some 2x4's together, or cutting something up with his saw.

He isn't concerned with "status" or whether people see him as someone "prominent" either; he is by far, the most humble person that I have ever been blessed to know.

Last night I was humbled by my husband. The lengths that he goes to in order to provide for his family overwhelmed me. My love, respect, admiration and appreciation for him were overwhelming.

I wish I could say I always feel this way about him, but I'd be lying.

I'm in the middle of reading "Staying Close" by Dennis & Barbara Rainey right now. After each chapter there are a few conversation questions for you and your spouse to work/talk through. In one of the earlier chapters of the book, I was supposed to list six things that I loved/respected/appreciated about my husband. Unfortunately, it had been one of "those" days and I could only come up with two things (and one of them was really lame).

Yesterday my husband worked his fingers to the bone - almost literally. Each one of his fingers, mostly the finger tips, had concrete burns; he had pretty much sanded his finger tips off. He wanted so badly to finish the tile job that he was working on for several reasons; but mainly, because he knew that we needed the money to pay some bills.

As I sat applying anti-biotic ointment, then gauze, then first aide tape to each of his finger tips, God reminded me of a couple of weeks before when I struggled to come up with six positive things about my husband - this man who worked his fingers to the bone.

I wondered if my beloved will have scars on his hands.

Oh yes, my Beloved does have scars on his hands!

A humble man, with dirty feet and rough but gentle hands; not too proud for anything asked of him. He was bruised and crushed for my sin. Spikes through his hands. Hands that worked hard. Hands that loved. Hands that respected. Hands that played. Hands that loved what they did. Hands that weren't concerned about status. Hands of a man that prayed for me as he died on my cross.

Jesus said, "Father, forgive them, for they do not know what they are doing." Luke 23:34

Abba Father, thank you for my beloved's hands. Thank you too, for showing me the truth while using my beloved' hands. I know that some days, more than others, I have a better grasp of your love for me; a love I will never understand. I'm so grateful for the man who works so diligently to provide for my earthly needs; and beyond grateful for Jesus, who provided for my eternal needs. Amen.