Bone Of My Bone. Flesh Of My Flesh.

Journal Entry. First of October, 2026th. 11AM

And the rib, which the LORD God had taken from man, made he a woman, and brought her unto the man.
Genesis 2:22

Every time I behold my wife laboring tirelessly in the kitchen; every time she brings food unto me at my table; every time I hear that deep sigh which sometimes escapes her beneath the weight of her ailments; every time I look upon the food her hands have prepared; every time I behold her silently while she sleeps; and every time mine eyes fall upon those same hands which have fed and cared for me these two-and-thirty years, I am humbled before the Lord.

How hath He put such a heart into this little, frail creature?

Four children have we. Four lives hath she borne the daily burden of raising; and now, after all these years, she continues quietly to bear me also. Much of what I am enabled presently to do, I do because she hath willingly taken upon herself the heavier end of the load. Whilst I go about those things which I believe the Lord hath given me to do, there she is, carrying much which otherwise must have fallen upon me. And she carries it quietly.

Sometimes I look at her and know not what to say. The years themselves seem gathered into those hands—the meals prepared, the children tended, the sicknesses endured, the innumerable little necessities attended unto which no man records, and much of which I fear I have received without sufficiently considering what they cost her.

Then my heart sinks low before God. For what can I render unto Him for giving me such a wife? I thank Him; but the words appear exceedingly poor. I thank Him again, and still they do not suffice. Perhaps they never shall.

I can only look upon this little, frail woman whom He hath given me, and then look upward unto the God who gave her such a heart to serve me, and confess that I have received far more mercy than I know how to acknowledge.

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