About My Best Friend

Let me tell you about my best friend.

Since I live with him, I know him pretty well.


He’s a busy man. Every morning while I’m teaching online, he waves goodbye and mouths “I love you” as he walks out the door to go to work. Some days he comes home on his lunch break; those days are the best.  The day goes by faster and life feels lighter when I get to see my sweet friend in the middle of the day. He works hard and returns home again tired in the evening. But all afternoon I look forward to the hug and kiss I’ll get when he walks back through the front door. Because he is an extraordinary chef, we often cook dinner together. Tandem cooking with him is one of my favorite things in the world. After dinner, some evenings he has to do homework for his college courses. Sometimes he must practice long hours for worship team on Sundays. Some nights he pours over his Bible and study resources in preparation for teaching Bible study on Thursdays. But he always manages to have time for me.

He has grown in many ways in the past year and a half. He has become more patient, more courageous, more mature. He has developed adeptness in home maintenance, budgeting, and even meal planning. He has learned much about nutrition and has made commendable changes based on his findings. He has successfully tried his hand at restoring old furniture, gardening, and raising chickens.

In one Saturday, he can make our large yard look like a well-kept wonderland.

My youngest niece adores him, and he loves her about as much as I do. (With this pair, consider my heart officially stolen and irretrievable.)

He can do anything but the dishes with a MIDI controller, a MacBook, and Apple Logic.

He speaks to me with kind words, in a loving way.

Early in our marriage, when he found out that vacuuming is my least favorite chore, he took it upon himself to keep the carpet vacuumed. I've never had to do it since.

He is a phenomenal songwriter. Other people only hear the few songs he feels ready to share; I get to hear most of them as he writes them. They are heartfelt and creative. They will make you laugh or cry or stand in wonder.

He enjoys good food. So do I. Together we have a frightening enthusiasm for cuisine. We talk about places we’ve eaten and dishes we had years before. We compare notes. Late at night, we lie in bed fantasizing together about restaurants we want to go to someday and foods we’d love to try.

He listens to me when I speak. When everybody else is too busy, or when my voice gets lost among the many louder ones, he hears me.

He’s almost always game for spontaneous dancing.

Upon request, he can extemporaneously tell the silliest, most clever and original bedtime stories, flawlessly.

He reads voraciously. I love that.

He’s not afraid to be goofy to make me laugh.

He knows the dreams and desires that I hold too dear to talk about with anyone else. He makes me feel like they are important and valuable and maybe even possible.

He gets me. When I feel like I have to explain myself to everyone else, he just understands.

I am thankful for my sweet friend and for the fact that he is my husband.