This morning, a friend of Jeremy’s dropped by the house for a quick visit.
I invited Mr. Smith- a sweet 60’s-something man with a head full of white hair- into the warm house and he chatted with Miss E (still dressed in her pink jammies) a minute before Jeremy joined us in the living room. The two men stepped onto the front porch to visit and I went back to putting away the clean laundry I’d been folding.
A few minutes later, Jeremy joined me in the girls’ room where I was dressing Miss E.
“Mr. Smith seems like such a nice man,” I commented off-handedly.
“He is,” Jeremy agreed. He shared a few things about his friend- how he loves his grand kids- then said something that jumped out at me.
“Mr. Smith’s wife has been bedridden for years. Her health finally got so bad that he couldn’t take care of her by himself, so he had to put her in a nursing home. He once told me he couldn’t stand being away from her, so he moved into the nursing home with her.”
“He moved into the nursing home with her?” I echoed in surprise.
Jeremy nodded. “He said he would rather live in there with her than at home without her.”
I couldn’t imagine Mr. Smith living in a nursing home; the man is a picture of perfect health.
He’s also a picture of perfect love.
I pray I’ll understand about that kind of love- the kind that gives with no thought of receiving back- someday.
Lord, help me to begin today.