Earlier today I was angry with him. Very. Angry. Big stuff angry. If you had told me, then, that six hours later I would be wondering if he's warm enough, I probably would have laughed - you know, that bitter bark that passes for a laugh when you're angry.
But I am. I hope his feet aren't too cold, and I wonder if his nose is running, and whether his caps are covering his ears and if one layer of long underwear was enough and if anyone brought them hot coffee in between showings.
We didn't have time to work things out this afternoon. In fact, it could take days. But I've been waking up beside this man for thirteen years and tomorrow morning will be no different.
On our wedding day, that glorious warm evening in September so many memories ago, I recited my vows to this man, ones I'd written myself, fashioned after a much-memorized portion of Scripture.
Love is patient
[an argument can wait],
love is kind
[even in between "discussions"].
It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud.
It is not rude [even when hurt],
it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered,
it keeps no record of wrongs.
Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth.
It always protects,
always trusts,
always hopes,
always perseveres.
Love never fails.
I Corinthians 13:4-8
How'm I doing? Living up to my promises?
Not nearly so well as I'd like. We both know that I've fallen again and again.
But love never fails.
Love picks me up, sets me on my feet, and I go at it again, trying to love him even through the storm.
When he comes home tonight, cold and wet, I'll get him dry socks and make him hot tea and do what I can. My Farmer needs me; the argument can wait.
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