My darling husband has become wounded several times in the course of our marriage. The first time was the scariest. He had taken Noah across the street to the park at night when we lived in California. When Alex walked back into the house with blood dripping down his face, my whole world came momentarily crashing down. Noah wasn't behind him. I immediately assumed the worst~~Noah had been kidnapped by hoodlums while Alex unsuccessfully beat them off, getting bloodied in the process.
We lived in a one-story condo with a long, overgrown pathway. Within a moment, Noah came walking back in as well, completely indifferent to his stepfather's damaged nose. Turns out, Alex had been playing tag with Noah and slammed right into a bar, one of those yellow ones that becomes invisible in the moonlight. Alex had crushed right through the top of his nose and was able to squirt blood out of the hole while pinching his nostrils. Quite gross! :P
Another time, Alex sliced his head open on a guitar string. The guitar was on the bed, he jumped onto it backwards while playing with the kids, and we ended up going to the urgent care facility. He's so tough. He just sat there, nonchalantly getting his head stitched up. I tried to be supportive but after a half hour of watching this, I began to feel woozy.
Alex has literally bled for the family. He puts his heart and soul into playing with children. He takes them outside even when it's 20 below. I love that about him.
And he said: "I tell you the truth, unless you change and become like little children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven." Matthew 18:3
No comments:
Post a Comment