His Hands in the Dirt

Watching my husband work in the dirt is a bit of a spiritual experience for me.

Something about watching him prepare the ground for planting speaks to my soul.

He chooses the tools he uses with great care. He uses only the ones necessary to break it and turn it over. With each break and turn, my heart turns with it. 

I am silent and spellbound as I watch this man works his hands through loose earth. Carefully making sure not to disturb any of the little sprouts peeking through, 

he pulls the weeds that will try to strangle those flowers later.

I break the silence with a whisper, asking when the color will come. And he chuckles and says, "Patience, love. Soon." He begins to weave words of beauty in tales of the flowers that will come and the ones he intends to add to complete the palate.

Always adding more and more shades of purple. For me. 

My heart skips a beat and I tumble head first for this man all over again.

You see what begins as his hands in the dirt becomes his love letter to me. 

With each flower he has planted that blooms, I am reminded that he has picked each one especially for me. With each moment kneeling in the flower garden, 

he is tending to my heart and soul.

How does your husband speak to your heart?

Blessings,