One Great Gift

I have been given many great gifts in my lifetime but the past few days I've been thinking about one in particular. Now, I could get really spiritual here and would be accurate in saying my greatest gift came from God. Of course it did, and it's celebrated this time of year...baby Jesus.

BUT, I'm feeling much more carnal these days so before I get to the gift that's been on my mind, here's a list of the top several; honestly I've received so many special gifts it's hard to remember them all, let alone list each one:

1. The Christmas I got the entire series of "Little House On The Prairie" books -- I had asked for them several years in a row.
2. The birthday I got my first pair of Nike tennis shoes (7th grade).
3. The Mother's Day gifts from Peter and Erica for being "another mom".
4. The convertible I got for my 25th birthday.
5. The new wedding set for my birthday.
6. The birthday present my mom told me was fragile so I handled it delicately only to open it and discover a gift card (much laughter ensued at my oh-so-careful maneuvering).
7. The year my dad purchased a birthday present for me just from him -- my parents never did separate gifts but the 6 months prior to my 16th birthday I had been extremely sick and there was no certainty of a 17th birthday. He got me flowers in an ice cream sundae glass with carnations as ice cream, red rose as a cherry, and 2 straws sticking out.

This past week I've been so grateful for the gift of Steve. It was with great tenderness and yes, even compassion, that he cared for me last week. He sat in the doctor's office and held my hand, he stayed for the procedure up to the moment the doctor kicked him out. He tucked me in bed, brought me antibiotics and pain pills at the scheduled times, escorted me to and from the bedroom / living room and even to the bathroom and back on the first day.

He served me sodas, milkshakes, and when I wanted to eat something, he handled that too. He kept the dogs off me, fielded all phone calls, and told me repeatedly "it's not that bad" even though that was not true. He did all the dishes and even ventured a couple loads of laundry.

He loved me selflessly, sacrificially, and even supernaturally. It makes me tear up even thinking about it. For some odd reason I feel the need to buy him a gift for taking care of me. In one of my "hopped up on goofball" moments I told him that and he just said "that's what I do -- take care of you. It's my job." It was not easy for him to do all that, yet he did.

I recognize many husbands wouldn't do that; they wouldn't get outside of themselves for the entire week to tend to their wife's needs, even in sickness. I am extremely fortunate that God gave me such man.

My blondie, I love you more than you know.