One of my self portrait Instagram photos. Join me there, it’s much cooler than Twitter.
It should have been the perfect day. I mean, after all, I just got my hair did and I was looking good in that way only hair dressers know how to rock your hair the day of… yet, I can never recreate at home.
It should have been the perfect day. What good hair day isn’t? But it wasn’t. I was just plain down in the dumps. I had a million reasons to be thankful/happy/blessed… but that battlefield in the mind Satan loves to attack, oh he was all over mine.
As I drove home from doing errands, I just lost it in the car. Hearing one song on the radio, dang, the emotional gate flooded open and my tears came pouring out. I sat at the red light and just tucked my face in my hands and bawled. Like smear the mascara bawled. It was just one of those days I felt so exhausted with busyness and overwhelmed by certain tests of faith going on in my personal life, and to be honest, the control freak in me hates not seeing the light at the end of my tunnel of worries.
Maybe it’s because I’m about to be “in my thirties” that now my hormones are crazier than ever and tears come more easier. Maybe it’s because I haven’t been putting in the time for my quiet time in the morning with God as much with all the busyness. Maybe it’s because I’m just a woman who is realizing she’s not superwoman.
But then as I came home, I walked straight to the bathroom by passing my usually waiting hug from Stephen (and Rhett) whenever I walk in the door. He knows me well enough to know if I bypass his hug that something must be up.
He met me in front of my sink in the bathroom as I looked up with him my half smudged puppy dog eyes. And he pulled me close to simply….. hug me. That’s all I really needed in that moment. His arms around me.
I used to be so proud of my independence as a single and fabulous 20-something before he came along. I didn’t need a man. I could conquer the world on my own. But now as approach another month of our newlywed life, I’m realizing more and more how much I need his strength. How that’s exactly what God designed him to be in my life. My strength and my protector and my greatest cheerleader (ok, my mom kind of owns that position, but they can share it.), as Stephen is made in God’s image in his role as my husband. There’s something beautiful in seeing how God made husbands to show a tangible form of providing comfort in their arms the way God shows each of us comfort in His arms.
And with that hug, my tears were turned into back into smiles for the rest of the day.
