Perfectly Imperfect

On this Valentine's Day, I am going to wax philosophical about love. The word "love" in the English language really falls short. We use it to express our undying devotion and passion for our soul mate and we use it to describe the filet mignon we find so mouth-watering.

The love I'm writing about is the love I have for my husband. This love should be the version described in I Corinthians 13. My love for him should be patient and kind. It shouldn't be rude or selfish. It shouldn't be easily angered. It should keep no record of wrongs.

The love for my husband should always trust. Always hope. Always endure. And, it should never end.

Honestly, he does a better job of love than I do.

He is patient and kind to me when I get frustrated. He isn't rude to me. He is definitely not selfish. We both could work on the easily angered part... but that's mostly due to the children. (Still... no excuses.) Our love is perfectly imperfect.

When we mess up, we make up. Being married for 15 years takes work. Or originality. We make it work. We are one... yet we have our own interests. And, we encourage this in each other.

I love his love of Ironman.

He encourages me in whatever my current interest is...

We are perfectly imperfect for each other.

We are getting things right and messing up together. We are agreeing and disagreeing and sometimes simply meeting in the middle. We are learning what the different stages of life bring right along with everyone else. Love never fails... but we do. Perfectly imperfect.

The message of love is never giving up. It's forgiving. It's starting over. It's making it work.

I love my perfectly imperfect husband and he loves me. Happy Valentine's Day.

D loves the Mahogany card collection...