This week, I’ve been thinking about what it means to be a good wife, more specifically what it means to be his good wife. I’ve known him for such a small time and yet it feels as if all I am has been made to match him – but relying on that I believe would be folly.
This past year has been a primer in learning him – watching how he thinks, moves, laughs, plays, parents. It’s echoed the creation of a chicken coop – him learning about chickens – and building our new coop and then starting a project of making coops.
Today, the first finished project was assembled in the warm sunset – and I was proud – proud to see it from our lovely sun porch, proud to see the gorgeous copper shining through cedar shakes, proud of the joints and seams. I was proud to take pictures of it for him. Proud of what he made with his hands and his mind – two of the many things I love about him. Proud that in eleven weeks, he will be my husband and he will call me “wife.”
(I was also a little bit proud that I was able to sneak a reflection of him – but I think that may be a different definition of pride. Today I am grateful. May I continue to be.)