A Letter to My Husband on His Birthday

Dear husband of mine,

I’m wildly crazy about you. Still. And when a girl is wildly crazy about a man, it’s hard for her not to shout it out to the world.

There are these moments, in the parking lot at the grocery store, when I look over at you, clutching our little kid’s hands in yours, letting them jump and skip, even though it’s hard to hold onto them and keep them from getting run over when they jump and skip, that I want to shout it out right there, underneath the blazing sky, for all the parking lot pedestrians to hear, that you are indeed an incredible man.

I restrain myself. Because I’ve seen how you blush. Like, the time I put the peat moss basket on my head in the home and garden aisle and pretended to be asian-of-sorts and nodded and bowed at all the folks we passed. Or the time I raced you into Pier One and didn’t much care about my running posture but let my arms flail wild and my legs kick out and you really wanted to win because you knew you could beat me, but you didn’t want to be seen that close to the psycho running-machine. Or the time that we were on the ski lift and every time it was our turn to get off, I’d yell obnoxious and loud and you had mentioned that it really wasn’t necessary that I make those bizarre noises, and I had argued that it actually was, because it helped me not to fall. You looked right at the ski lift-operator-dude and blushed.

You’ve learned not to be so terribly concerned about what other’s think and I’ve learned to tone it down just a bit.

I didn’t know, those years ago, when I looked across the room and saw you there and whispered to God that you were incredibly beautiful, that He would indeed allow me to be your best friend. I had asked Him for it. I sat right there and bravely asked God if I could marry you. I didn’t really know you–I just saw all this light in your eyes and I could see the tenderness in your smile and I was just sure of it–that you were a lot like Jesus.

I was right. You are so much like Him. For all the times you’ve stayed up late at night, when we’re mad at each other and you want to talk it out because you care about my feelings and you care about us, and even though we’re tired, we’re worth it.

 

For all the times you’ve come to me, or to one of the kids and pulled us close and told us that you were wrong and that you’re sorry and you’ve laid down your pride and you’ve chosen not to give a rip about your ego, because you just really want to make it right. You know that relationships are restored through humility and so you ask God for help and you humble yourself and in doing so, it’s love that knits us back together again.

There aren’t many men like you. Who are scared to death to fail, but who when they fail, run right back to their Maker for renewed strength and forgiveness, and then plug along perseveringly again. You know how much we depend on you and sometimes that weight feels like it can crush, but you’ve got God and He’s got you and all of us, so we’re good. We do a lot of clinging to each other and to Him.

And there are these moments in the night when you’re fast asleep and breathing deep and I can’t help but lay close and thank God with everything in me for that beating, tender, passionate, admirable heart of yours. I put my hand on your chest just to feel the pulsing wonder of your life. Your life that has encouraged, challenged, strengthened and protected mine.
You really are wonderful. And I can’t help but shout it out. I just can’t restrain myself. Brent Alan Paulus, you’re incredible! Thank you for running after God and daily running after us.

I’m wildly crazy about you. Still.

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