Sick

You are sick today, your back aggravating you and nausea riding through you. I hate that you're in pain, wish I could take it on myself and leave you pain-free, if but for a day. I want to take it all away, wish I could protect you from pain.

But I can't, so what do I do? I pray for you, give you into the hands of one greater who can heal you and restore you. His hands can hold you more than mine can. And I bend over backwards if I can to help you if even for a minute. I love you and I am your helper as much as you are mine.

You told me yesterday that there was something I had to do before you would marry me--bring you flowers at work. And I did it without your prodding or asking, further confirmation that God know what both of us need to come together and to stand solid in Him in this.

Any test put before us, we have passed, in His strength and by His love in us for one another. I trust in you and I believe in us.

So you are sick, but you will get better, and I cannot wait to see you at the other end of the aisle, walking to me. By the time you read this, you will be my bride. That idea makes my heart smile.