He’s the glue that holds us together.

He’s the one who assures each member of the family of our worth.

He reminds our oldest son how smart he is; he makes the little one giggle when he calls him silly. He tells me time has only made me more beautiful, and he whispers to our baby girl that she’s the most precious thing he’s ever held in his arms.

As a father he’s invaluable, and there are no words to describe the gift of his companionship.

He’s the one who wrestles on the couch before bedtime, and the one who wakes up with early-rising toddlers when the sun is just barely peeking over the horizon.

His are the steps our boys will follow through this life. His are the toes our daughter will stand on as he spins her around through the years, showing her what the love of a man should look like.

He lifts me up, he makes me better. He’s the patience to my impulsiveness; the calm to my storm.

When I’m overwhelmed and beaten down, it’s he who grabs me by the hand, picks me off of the floor, and leads me until I can find my own way again.

He chose me all of those years ago, and he chooses me still. In my weakest moments and in my strongest, he loves me; purely, deeply, without hesitation.

I thank God every single day that of all the daddies leaving footprints in this world, and of all of the husbands and partners and friends. . .

He is ours.

This article originally appeared on Etched in Home with Casey Huff

 

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