I love my wife.
Sometimes, like last night, I realize how much I love her.
Laura’s parents had taken us to Outback Steakhouse, where we had split the Outback Special. In the early hours of the morning, Laura woke me up, because that steak was not sitting well.
And she got sick.
It’s hard to understand how I could want to take care of her, how I felt that it was a privilege to hold her hair and get her a Coke to help settle her stomach. Now, I realize I love her thoroughly imperfectly — meaning that in everything I do, in every way I love her, I do not love her purely. Sometimes, though, like last night, I see glimpses of a type of selfless love that I have never given anyone.
Times like that picture the Gospel, because I realize that, as much as I love Laura, even in moments like early this morning, Christ loved his bride infinitely more purely and selflessly than I love my own.
It amazes me, and gives me pause.
Now, I’m going to go hang out with my wife who stayed home sick from work.