Wednesday, January 6, 2016

The Language of Love~

I stand,
my feet squarely planted in the earth beneath my feet.
As the wind howls and nips at the exposed skin on my hands and face,
I hold onto the ladder with all my might.

It's dark.
It's bitter cold.
And the wind, who can stand up against it?

And yet, I try.

As my husband climbs the ladder to our roof,
I hold on to the metal contraption with everything I've got.

As soon as my love steps off the top rung,
the wind almost takes us down -
the ladder and me, the one holding it,
not my husband who is now out of sight.

For a few steps anyway, until the wind carries any sound of his presence out of ear's reach,
I hear his footsteps and the crackling of the roof.

Then, just the deafening silence of the roar of the wind.

I stand there
and wait.

Minutes that seem like months tick by.
I listen hard for any sound -
footsteps,
hammering,
the sound of metal on metal.
Only wind, trying to drown out the audible words of my prayer being lifted
high above the ladder,
high above the rooftop,
high above our chimney where my husband is doing emergency repair work,
high above the roar of this wind.

"Lord, help him.  Protect him.  Hold him steady.  Keep his feet firmly beneath him."

A huge gust interrupts my prayer and for a moment almost rips the ladder from my hands.

But, I hold on tight, and I keep praying.

Moment after moment.
Minute after minute.
Blast of wind after blast of wind.

Finally, I hear him calling me.

"You ok, Beautiful?"

Imagine, my love is asking about me.

"Yes, Handsome! Are you done?"

"Almost.  I've almost got it. Can you hold on a little while longer?"

"Yes, but please be  . . . .."

And, with that, he is gone again.

" . . . careful."

Soon, he is back, and this time to stay.
I hold the ladder and he makes his way back on solid ground.

As we head back indoors, I start to cry.
Tears, uncontrollable, spilling from my eyes.

"What's the matter, Beautiful?"

Only I can't talk. I can't say a word. All I can do is cry.

And, he understands.

He holds me tight,
wipes the tears from my eyes,
and holds me tight again.

Later that night,
while saying goodnight to God,
I try to find the words to thank Him for
hearing my prayer,
for watching over my man,
for doing what only He can do.

Only I can't talk. I can't say a word.  All I can do is cry.

And, He, too, understands.

Love -
it's a language all it's own,
but one that,
when spoken from the heart,
needs no explanation.








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