My man...a picture I snapped with my phone, while we were having dinner, after strolling the riverfront in Savannah.
Cute, or what?
This man can calm me down and fire me up. Rein me in and set me loose. He can make me happy as a clam and mad as hokey pokey, and it is all just a day at the office for him. I love...and I do mean love...his passion for the gospel, preached carefully, passionately, and properly.
And in a day and time that seems to be dominated by sissies...by men who hide behind sarcasm and live under the law (the law is for sissies...only real men live by grace through faith) untaught Christian men, yoking everyone they know under heavy burdens, not lifting a finger themselves to help bear them...
...amongst self aware, religious men, cold and dead, my man glows like a happy hearth-fire. His courage to preach a New Testament, Pauline gospel is the thing I love the most about him.
Well...and those eyes. And those hands. And the way he plays the guitar, and the way he plays the drums, and the way he can fix cars...
...and the way he can soothe crying grandbabies. Now that's hot - holla!
No, it isn't our anniversary. Or his birthday. Or anything in particular. I just think he's a home-girl's best thang. My boo.
And he will read this, and look at me very...very...quizzically.