Something happened this week.
Something that moved me and broke my heart and made me lift up my head and cry out a burning "Thank You" to God for the love I saw before me.
My husband has been gone. All week long. He's been back in our old hometown for business. The Midwest town where we had two of our babies and where we learned that as long as we had each other - even if we left everyone we knew behind - we had a friend.
He answers my phone call on his first night there and just like every time, I ask him. And, he patiently responds:
Yes, babe. It's the same.
I don't know what I expect. What if he said, "It's different. This place has changed like I don't know what." I don't know - I guess I just want to know that Grand Rapids will always be just how I remember it and promise to hold our memories as sacred and life-changing and extraordinary. Just like I do.
Things here at home don't change much while he's away. It is, after all, only four days. What can really change?
Something changed. Someone changed.
He uttered the same two words. Over and over. Two words I'd never heard him say.
When I picked him up out of his crib.
When he was eating his Cheerios.
When he toddled to the office and back out to the kitchen.
When we walked to the car.
When I put him down at night.
Born out of a deep love and affection. Nurtured in a thousand moments. Like when he's playing with his cars and looks up to see one of them flying through the air and coming towards him.
In a hand three times the size of his.
Over and over. All week long.