I lay awake on my back in the dark listening to my husband’s soft breathing. He lay on his stomach, his right arm tossed across my neck, hand resting on my face. I held that hand with my left and nestled my cheek into its cup, seeing it in my mind. My right hand gently brushed the arm hair, traced the outline of the fingers, encountered the roughness of a hangnail and the scab of a cut.
Not a large hand. But not small. And big enough to swallow mine when he grabs it while we cross an icy street or hike over rough terrain.
A balanced hand.
A kind hand.
Not a rough hand. But a hand that handles paper and holds phones. But not a soft hand, either. A hand that hauls wood into the house after a 16-hour day so I don’t need to. That empties the litter box and fishes recyclables out of the trash (and sometimes food, but that’s another story). A hand that spent several weekends trying to reconstruct our daughter’s walkway.
A caring hand.
A kind hand.
Not a pasty hand. But a hand sprinkled with sun spots from summers working in the field. A hand that steered a tractor when it was only 6 years old and bottle fed calves and and bedded bulls and showed horses. A hand that created gifts for his mother, including a piece of clay art that I display in my office. I wish I’d seen that child hand.
A precious hand.
A kind hand.
Not a weak hand. A hand with roping veins and a strong slow pulse at the wrist. A pulse that beats with love for his family. A hand that shovels snow before I’m up–and then shovels for a neighbor. A hand that washes dishes and cleans bathrooms and vacuums carpets. A hand that helps my son’s girlfriend with her taxes after a long day at the office.
A helpful hand.
A kind hand.
A hand that carried Frostys and other special treats to his nursing home-confined father, in spite of verbal abuse. A hand that helped his dad to and from his wheelchair, to and from his car to drive him to doctor’s appointments and out to eat.
A compassionate hand.
A kind hand.
Not a grasping hand. An open hand. A hand that pulls bills from his pocket to give to a man on the street or a child that needs (wants) a little extra, leaving him with enough for something off the dollar menu or a simple peanut butter and jelly sandwich.
A sacrificial hand.
A kind hand.
A hand that changed diapers and plays board games and reads books and searches under covers for a hiding child when he can hardly keep his eyes open.
A patient hand.
A kind hand.
A hand that grasps a stray dog or cuddles a lost kitten or carries an unwelcome housebound insect outside. A hand that walked a colic-suffering horse all night, in the depth of winter. That brushed an icy tear from his own eye.
A tender hand.
A kind hand.
A hand that held me when I wanted to beat the stuffing out of one of our kids for some reason.
A restraining hand.
A kind hand.
A hand that stroked my forehead as I awakened from anesthesia.
A gentle hand.
A kind hand.
A hand that grasped mine when he noticed a single tear as I recently lay on an emergency room gurney. Even after my frustrated and angry and undeserved tirade against him earlier that evening.
A forgiving hand.
A kind hand.
A hand that slipped a ring on my finger over 38 years ago when he promised to love and cherish me through better and worse until parted by death.
A loving hand.
A kind hand.
My husband’s hand.
“Therefore, as God’s chosen people, holy and dearly loved, clothe yourselves with compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness, and patience.” Colossians. 3:12
NOTE: This post is part of the Blog Carnival on KINDNESS. For more thoughts, visit One Word at a Time.
Copyright © 2010 by Sandra Heska King
Such beautiful words and examples of kindness and love. Sounds like you are blessed with a wonderful hubby… thanks for sharing, Sandra.
I have a kind husband, too.
Kind men are such a blessing.
He IS a blessing! Thanks for stopping by, Bridget and Helen!
wow, what a sweet tribute to obviously a very wonderful man . . . and, of course, another set of tears brought to my eyes! How lucky he is to have a wife who loves her husband so and how blessed you are to have a husband so kind and sweet and Godly!
Jeannine
A treasure for sure!
Thank You for holding our hand and walking us through these tender,precious, and loving moments of your marriage that has blossomed for 38yrs. Dennis is very much like my husband..a responder and not a reactor. A true blessing:)
I think they'd like each other!
And not just a kind hand –but also a wife who's in love with her husband. And that is a beautiful picture, indeed. Great post.
He's easy to love. Thank you Glynn.
…a hand that scratches a man's arms signalling a good-humored uneasiness (and silently challenging those who love him to push just a little further)… a hand I will always remember softly cradling a bright-eyed niece — his Goddaughter — while the rest of his body slept after her Baptism… a hand that grasped a cloth diaper by the tips of two fingers even though it was only used as a "burp cloth"… a hand that guided that same niece in the woods allowing her to eat just a taste of a possibly poisonous mushroom… the hand that I know will be there for me and my daughter if ever my beloved sister cannot… God bless that hand and the wife that holds it!
Well done, Sissy!
Oh man! Now *I'm* crying!!!
P.S. The niece will probably not allow him to take the great-nephew on any woods walks! However, in his defense, he *did* tell her it was "inedible."
Wow – that was pretty awesome! You are blessed Aunt Sandy!! I have one just like that too – I am very blessed as well. How did we get so lucky?!? =) Love you!
Yes, Kevin is a catch! I guess God showed us where to throw the nets! Love you back!
Oh I am sure we can let him go on a walk with my little man!! Even if he does come home with some kind of story—-that will be the best part. They just better "hold hands."
🙂 Kristin (:
Let's hope "Little Man" has strong legs! Those walks are getting longer and longer! 😉
What a beautiful post, Sandra! I'm glad I happened upon it. It's a wonderful way to describe the kindness and all the good things about your husband in so many different ways.
Thank you, Connie! So glad you stopped in.
Beautifully written Sandra. Congratulations on 38 years of marriage!
(and welcome to High Calling Blogs)
Hi Sandy! I was looking for you on Facebook and found the link to Beholding God. How I have missed you—even after all these years!!!The blog is great—you have a new fan. Love to you and Dennis…Lana
@Cheryl Thank you! I'm looking forward to being part of High Calling Blogs and getting to know you.
@LANA??? I have been looking and looking for you on Facebook! You are so good at writing. I am so bad. I'm much better on the social network circuit. Friend me–Sandra Heska King