My wife is beautiful. I’d have given up long ago on any hope in a relationship if it hadn’t have been for her, who exceeds any and every hope I could have had for a companion. I love her personality, her curiosity, her intelligence, her faith. She puts God first in her life in everything she does.
My wife has a very difficult job, but she gets up and goes to work, no matter how awful she feels. She’s a first-year teacher at an elementary school, teaching first grade. It’s hard. She works late. She stays past midnight. She gets up early, before six. She grades papers at coffee shops. She goes in seven days a week. I don’t know how she does it. But she does. And when she comes home, she glows.
My wife is an awesome cook. One night last November she cooked three soups, two pies, stuffing and a turkey, and more. What amazed me is that she could keep all those recipes going at the same time. I tasted all the meals, and they all tasted good.
My wife is easy-going. She’s easy to make plans for on a Friday night because she’s willing to do or try anything. She’s full of spontaneity and grace, willing to try one of my hare-brained plans at the last minute, no matter how ridiculous.
She’s a great encourager. I’m terrible at making decisions, but she defers to me even when she doesn’t have to. That means a lot to me.
She’s the light of my life.
Did I mention she’s beautiful?
I got married on my 36th birthday. My wife is my greatest birthday present, the best I’ll ever receive. It was worth the wait. Because God brought her to me. I like talking about her. That’s why I wrote this blog. Because I love her. A lot. I’m lucky to be married to her.