Husbands, go all out in your love for your wives, exactly as Christ did for the church—a love marked by giving, not getting. Christ’s love makes the church whole. His words evoke her beauty. Everything he does and says is designed to bring the best out of her, dressing her in dazzling white silk, radiant with holiness. And that is how husbands ought to love their wives. They’re really doing themselves a favor—since they’re already “one” in marriage. Ephesians 5:25-28 (MSG)
He says he doesn’t bring me flowers because “they just die.” But I say those sweet smelling petals folded into perfect rose buds are the traditional way to say, “I love you.” But, he still doesn’t bring me flowers.
Instead, each morning I’m awakened to a shower of kisses rather than the annoying buzz of an alarm clock. I drag my half-asleep self to the shower. There are no flowers on the bathroom counter. Instead, there’s a steaming cup of coffee to help me pry my eyelids open.
In the middle of my workday, when the stress level is building and I just don’t think I can handle anymore, the phone rings. It’s not the florist with a delivery. Instead, it’s my husband’s comforting voice, “I love you. How are you doing?” My heart melts to think that he cares so much for me that he stopped his busy day to call me. No, he doesn’t bring me flowers.
Driving home, my heart is heavy with the burdens of the day’s problems. Then, I think of the tasks that must be completed before bed tonight. Throw in a load of wash. Make dinner. Unload the dishwasher. The list is long.
Fatigued, I change and head to the kitchen to begin the evening’s chores. No, I don’t find any flowers on the counter. Instead, I find an empty dishwasher and cabinets full of clean dishes—evidence of his lunch hour handiwork.
In the evening, despite his own business challenges, he asks, “What can I do to help?” We pack lunches for the next day, make dinner, fold the wash, and make coffee for the morning—together. Oh, how light the load is together!
Exhausted, we fall into our bed. There are no flowers on the dresser, but he takes my hand in his and whispers, “You know what? I sure do love you.”
I breathe a prayer, Thank you, Father, for creating this adoring husband just for me.
I’m glad he doesn’t bring me flowers that fade like yesterday. I much prefer his forever gift: his love.