Passing my bedroom window, something in the distance caught my attention. Shielding the top of my brow to see past the rays of sun, I squinted to get a better look. There he was. Beyond the brilliant green grass, our blue tractor plowed through the field, bouncing David about.
I pressed my hand against the glass as if to touch him. Thank you, Lord, for my husband. Help me to love and honor him today. In the midst of whispered prayers, the tractor stopped, David hopped off and knelt down in the lush meadow.
The phone rang, interrupting my moment and reminded me the work day had begun. Glancing at the clock, it was later than I’d realized. Flushed with anticipation of being late, I scrambled to get ready.
With minutes to spare, I gathered my things, turned into the hall and ran smack-dab into David. His rugged hand held out a dainty flower that he’d picked from the field.
“For my beautiful wife,” he said, as he handed it to me. And I melted right onto the floor. Time schedules faded as I took the precious gift from his hand. No words could express the love I felt, so I simply wrapped my arms around him.
The sacredness of moments. They pass quickly—I have to seize them as they come. There’s no guarantee of another one.
And I placed the wildflower on my window sill to remind me just how holy these junctures are.