He wakes up quietly, earlier than our rooster, and his phone rings before the dawn is breaking. He walks on his tiptoes, unlike me, to spare our sleep. I hear the coffee machine in my dream and the controlled sounds of the spoon on the walls of his cereal bowl. Many times he’s searching for misplaced keys, but that is not every morning.
And from then on his phone will never be silent.
He rarely gets really upset and when he does, I see his beautiful jaw subtly going up and down in a grimace. There’s so much self-control to learn from this man, sometimes it bugs me… That kind of a pressure that lays on his shoulders, only his mom could bear with such bravery from most of all people I know very well… He is ambitious; a fountain of humble confidence rejuvenates him on the hardest of days. When evenings are heavy, he still wakes up the next morning like a warrior, earlier than our rooster, walking on his tiptoes, to spare our sleep... He will show up, he’ll overcome his disappointment, because he doesn’t quit.
That is my love. Your love might look and do the same. I do not know. But what I know is that God’s word is true and it reveals itself in my face every day. There's Adam, in most of our men, facing his fate: "By the sweat of your brow you will eat your food until you return to the ground, since from it you were taken”.
It comes so easy to be selfish and think of your own hard day. It comes so natural to want to place more pressure on those who we love; more than they already have had to endure...
I look at my love and my heart cringes sometimes seeing the demands of the world my "own flesh" needs to respond to. That is right! My own flesh he is! I will create a haven for when my love comes home. I will open my ear to hear what he can only tell me. I will understand as no one else does. I will not place stronger burdens on him; I will not welcome him with more expectations when his cup is full. I want my love to come home to a refuge, where the Lord and His peace reside.
English Translation HERE
Sunt o iubitoare a cuvintelor; le vad in varful degetelor mele, incerc de multe ori sa le ating, insa imi dau seama ca ele sunt menite sa atinga.