Guilty

In church last Sunday, our pastor spoke of love. Love that our Lord has for us, love we should have for our spouses. What true love looks like, how it plays out. What it is and also wha it isn't.
He posed a question that I've been pondering this week. "If you were brought before a judge and jury, charged with loving your spouse, would there be enough evidence to prove you guilty?"
The minute he asked that question, I thought: Mr. Man would be found guilty immediately.
There is evidence of his love for me every day.
He works hard, without complaint, to provide so I can stay home with our children.
He takes special care to help in the little things.
He does the dishes most weekends.
He cooks dinner when I'm craving something he's better at making.
He takes meat out of packages and puts it in the pan for me so I don't have to touch it.
He lets me rest when I'm tired.
He hugs me.
He sneaks up behind me in the kitchen while I'm cooking and kisses the nape of my neck.
He tells me he loves me.
He encourages my friendships and makes time for me to cultivate them.
He spends entire weekends with strangers so I can grow closer to my bloggy friend and her family.
He understands my love for my family and doesn't complain when we have them stay with us for weeks on end :)
In so many ways this man shows love. Shows care. He doesn't write sonnets or sing songs of adoration or even gush.
But, oh, this man is truly guilty.
On this, his 31st birthday, he is sitting with his two little girls with popcorn and Tangled.
Guilty as charged.