I’m supposed to be the one taking on The Love Dare. Yet, I seem to be more on the receiving end these days. My husband has never even cracked open the book, but he’s been living it every day since my bed rest began four days ago.
First, there are a dozen red roses sitting on my nightstand.
“Just so you have something nice to look at while you take of our baby,” he said after surprising me with the beautiful bouquet.
But the roses are only half the story. He’s been juggling work, needy kids, and the full range of domestic duties. Tuesday night he vacuumed. Yesterday he did two loads of laundry and washed finger smudges off the walls. When he’s home, he brings me slices of fruit and protein shakes. He entertains the girls. He kisses my forehead and asks how I’m feeling. He hands me water bottles and reminds me to keep on drinking. He makes me laugh with witty remarks. He gently places his hand on my belly and smiles.
He does all the things that the 15 days I’ve completed so far of The Love Dare say that true love must do: He cherishes me. He is kind and not selfish or irritable. He honors me. He takes delight in me even when I have very little to offer in return. He tenders the agape kind of love, the unconditional, “in sickness” and “for worse” kind of love. He makes me happy and thankful for him, and he gives me the desire to want to return the kind of true love he’s shown me.
In other words, he makes The Love Dare not a dare at all but the way we want and choose to live our married life.